


Herding Wolves

by Serazimei



Series: Shepherd of Wolves [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Bonding, Cuddling & Snuggling, Curses, Fae Magic, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Maybe I have no sense of Humor, Timeline What Timeline, Wolf Pack, Wolves, fae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24071236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serazimei/pseuds/Serazimei
Summary: It‘s early spring and Jaskier is looking to reunite with Geralt again when a white wolf with suspiciously amber eyes blocks his path.The bard lets himself be dragged through the woods by an obviously cursed Witcher only to get the shock of his life when he is led to two other wolves. One of which is badly injured.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert
Series: Shepherd of Wolves [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866142
Comments: 646
Kudos: 2605
Collections: Mispreciosos





	1. Chapter 1

The frost turning the streets into a slippery mess was slowly retreating, birds beginning to chirp merrily outside his window in the mornings, hoping to attract a mate. Spring was waking up the land like a soft kiss from a lover and with it Jaskier too became restless.

He had wintered in Oxenfurt as he was wont to do, relishing in the often bright minds of his students, the good wine and food. The sheer artistic chaotic energy that enveloped the city at all times helped to keep the melancholy at bay, which always seemed to creep up on him in the darkest hours of the year.

But now as the first leaves presented themselves on the trees Jaskier felt his energy levels rise. His fellow professors noticed, scoffing at him with amused smiles. Like a bird, they said. Ready to migrate back to the road for the summer. They didn‘t understand the appeal, but didn‘t begrudge him for his habits. He always brought a fresh wind to the academy, but would he stay too long they‘d probably have to throw him out the next window or something.

He was barely managable while subdued because of the cold. They didn‘t want to be around him when he was at his brightest, just knowing the academy would desolve into chaos in weeks if he ever decided to stay for the summer. Or burn down. Probably both.

So it was in everyones best interest that he left to search for his muse as soon as the roads were crossable again. And he went, singing and happily strumming his lute with a spring to his step that didn‘t disappear even after hours of walking.

Bright blue eyes shone as he took in the beauty around him, greedily soaking up the still rather weak rays of the sun. He travelled light as always and stopped in every village no matter the size, playing his songs and holding an ear out for rumors about a Witcher.

He travelled along the Pontar river, passing Rinde and was on his way to Murivel, when he once again had to set up camp in the wilderness.

Jaskier tried to avoid doing so whenever he wandered the roads alone. It was one thing sleeping in the open with a Witcher at his side, or even with a group of travellers. It was very much different when he was on his own. Much more dangerous, to be exact. Despite running after a Witcher for over ten years now he was still but a mere bard with only a lute and a dagger to defend himself.

Oh he was positively wicked with a dagger, that was for sure. And his lute was surprisingly sturdy (probably elven magic) and just as useful as a club as it was as an instrument. But both of these facts wouldn‘t protect him from a group of bandits or trained military men.

Or a pack of wolves for that matter.

Jaskier flinched when he heard the first howls, far too close for comfort. He had half a mind to pack his things and try his luck elsewhere, but it had already gone dark, the crackling fire the only reliable light source. So he could only sit there and hope the wild animals would shy away from the flames.

Once again he wished that he had the senses of his dear mutated friend. Being able to smell threats from a mile away was super convenient when having to set up camp in an unfamiliar forest.  
Thankfully he hadn‘t encountered any beast while out foraging.

Trying to keep his racing heart under control he took the kettle away from the flames and poored himself a mug of strong herbal tea. A knack he had developed during his time lecturing in Oxenfurt. Damn he was getting old if he had already swapped his evening wine with tea. Frowning he tried to make out his face in the dark water and was debating if he should take out his small mirror to check for grey hairs, when something huge, white and furry jumped into the camp with barely a noise made.

Jaskier would forever deny the high squeak he let out. The mug went flying, watering the plants as the bard scrambled to his feet, grabbing his lute and holding it out in front of him like a sword.

The white wolf stood on the other side of the camp fire. It was huge, easily coming up to Jaskiers hip and it scowled at him as if he was offended by Jaskiers choice of weapon. It let out a low huff, the very picture of being unimpressed.

It was the familiar behavior, the golden eyes, but most importantly the obvious wolf medaillon that made Jaskier lower his impromptu weapon.

„Oh no, you don‘t get to look at me like that. You know my lute can pack a perfectly good punch. And has a longer range than my dagger. It‘s a perfectly sensible choice of weapon! And anyway you have no ground to criticise me given that I‘m the on currently with two opposable thumbs! What happened?“

He had placed his lute back on the ground and rounded the fire to get to his friend as he talked, not for a second leaving the beast out of sight. Sure it looked and behaved like Geralt, but that could very much also be a ruse. He would never hear the end of it if he accidently got mauled by an animal because he had mistaken it for his friend.

Letting the wolf sniff his hand first he only received a short warning growl when he carded his fingers through the thick fur. Jaskier smiled when he felt Geralt push into the touch afterwards, pointedly looking in the other direction. The attention of wandering hands searching for any injuries soon proofed to be too much however. Geralt danced away from him with a bark and scratched at the ground.

„Alright, alright no more touching. Sorry for being worried about you.“ Throwing his hands in the air he stood again.

The plan had been to go back to his bag and search for some leftover jerky for his friend, maybe play the lute afterwards and then in the morning start to puzzle out the mystery that was his wolf turned friend. But Geralt would have none of that as it seemed. He barked at him again, urgent, something like desperation in his tone. And when Jaskier only looked at him incomprehending the wolf bolted forward, snatching Jaskiers fine silk sleeve and _pulled_.

Jaskier bent over, caught off guard and off balance, not captured arm flaying around in an attempt to not face plant into the dirt.

„Geralt!“

The wolf barely gave him time to find his footing again, pulling again which forced Jaskier to take another step in the direction Geralt wanted him to go.

„Okay! I get it, I get it, you want to show me something. Can‘t it wait till morning, though? I can‘t see in the dark like you can, you know!“

A growl answered him. Geralt let go of his sleeve, instead circling him to be able to push him from behind.

„Fine! Demanding and rude as ever I see. Lead the way then.“

With the reassurance given that Jaskier would follow, the wolf shot off with a bark. „Geralt wait! Human eyes! I can‘t see shit!“

The glare that was sent his way whenever he stumbled over a root or nearly ran into a tree because of the effort to keep up made Jaskier want to hit the man turned animal. As if it was his fault that he couldn‘t see in the dark! Really, the nerve.

They, or rather Jaskier, stumbled through the night for what felt like hours. Together with the exhaustion that always came with a day of walking and the late hour the bard was starting to get downright cranky. Between heavy breaths (Geralt didn‘t deem it necessary to slow down for his handicapped companion) he voiced his displeasure, cursing everything from pushy Witchers, to crazy mages and weak human eye sight.

Until they reached a well hidden assembly of boulders, crumbled in a way that made for a natural overhang. Jaskier clicked his mouth shut suddenly not so sure anymore if the White Wolf at his side really was his Witcher friend. Was there a monster that could lure people out by disguising itself as cursed friends in need? If so that was a very stupid hunting strategy. Even if he had fallen for it.

The reason for his brief resurfacing of self-preservation instinct were the two wolves laying under the overhang. One was about as huge as Geralt and must have been some sort of lighter colour. Jaskier couldn‘t really tell if it was a shade of grey or brown. What he could tell was that the wolf was curled around another, smaller one that was definitely black as coal.

The White Wolf nudged him forward with a low whine. And as Jaskier let himself get pushed closer he saw the reason for the urgency. The black wolf was laying in a pool of blood, several arrows burried deep in his hide. Three cracked and knawed at ones lay not too far away. An indicator that his packmates had tried to wrench them out before looking for aid. The wounds that came from that wouldn‘t be a pretty sight, Jaskier was sure.

The wolf was puffing out air from wheezing lungs and that definitely didn‘t sound good either. Even with Witcher healing Jaskier understood that time was of the essence should a lung or other important organ have been hit.

Both foreign wolves tensed as Jaskier came closer and the bard halted in his steps as the bigger one of them rumbled a low warning growl. An answering, even louder and more impressive one came from Jaskiers side, followed by an exasperated bark.

The grey or brown one whined, snout pressing against the head of his injured pack mate, who was watching Jaskiers every move with a sort of wary resignation, ears held flat and tail tugged between his hindlegs.

It was a truly adorable yet sad sight and Jaskier didn‘t care anymore if these were Witchers or wild animals or monsters. He would help, if it was the last thing he did.

„It‘s alright. I‘m Geralts friend. You know the humble bard, who graced a ride along. You have to have heard my hit debut Toss a Coin somewhere in your travels!“ That earned him a rumble that sounded almost like a groan from the black one and an unimpressed stare from the greyish one. Which Jaskier decided to ignore. „I‘m here to help. As long as you promise not to bite my hand off when I‘m starting to treat that. Geralt? Be a dear and go back to my camp, bring me my bag, I‘ll make a fire in the meantime so I can see what I‘m doing. And Blacky?“ The black one outright snarled at him. „Oh prideful one, I see. We‘ll think about fitting names later. Anyway don‘t bleed out on me while I‘ll prepare everything, okay?“

His eyes had adjusted as best as possible to the meager light trickling into the forest from the stars and moon above. The circumstances weren‘t the best, but he had always had an affinity for fire, so this one was lit in no time. He kept up a running commentary while he worked, mostly to calm himself.

The two wolves didn‘t move, but kept watching him with their golden eyes and Jaskier was seriously doubting the soundness of his idea to send Geralt away. He didn‘t know these two. Heck he wasn‘t even entirely sure if they were really transformed Witchers or not.

Jaskier wanted to help. He really did. He also wanted to keep his hands and throat intact, though. He needed both for making noise! He couldn‘t just start whistling songs should some maw liberate him of his vocal cords. Not that he would be able to do even that should one of the wolves (probably the uninjured one) decide to rip out his throat. He‘d be dead then. And dead bards can‘t tell any tales whatsoever.

Despite these worries Jaskier inched towards the overhang and knelt down a few inches away from them once the fire was set. Close enough that he could touch the smallest ones flank, should he dare to stretch his arm out all the way.

In the firelight he was able to make out more. The uninjured wolf was mostly a dirty brown with a few darker streaks of fur here and there. He was scarred, three marks running down his face, twisting one side of his mouth into a permanent snarl. The other one was just as morbidly decorated. A fine vertical line trailing up and down one of his eyes. Not to mention the dozen scars only partly hidden by thick fur.

„Someone did quite a number on you, huh?“ Jaskier muttered, shuffling closer still and letting his hands hover over the wounds as he rattled off what damage he saw and what he would need to treat it. „You wouldn‘t happen to have one of your potion bags around? Would potions even work for you right now? What with the different build and all-“

The brown one sneezed at him, lifting his head enough to shake it before nosing at his injured companion again. Jaskier couldn‘t help but smile at the adorable sight.

„Right, no potions either way I presume that was what this was supposed to mean. Now-“

At that moment Geralt sprinted back into the camp again. How he could be so big and yet so silent was beyond the bard. But then that had been a mystery even before the man had been turned into an animal.

He had Jaskiers bag dangling between his teeth and trodded over, tail tugged low with barely concealed anxiety.

„Thank you. Now little wolf please don‘t bite my hand off. I‘ll have to remove the arrows and that will hurt.“

He waited after he said that. He had gotten another snarl at the new nickname, but after that the dark one swept his gaze over to Geralt, who had come to stand on Jaskiers right side, tense as a bowstring.

They were locked in some kind of staring contest, while the brown one shuffled nervously behind his kin. In the end Geralt won the arguement. The black one gave a low whine and settled, head facing away from Jaskier, yet his visible yellow eye watched every move.

Jaskier didn‘t need the nudge from his friend to understand that he was allowed to go on. He appreciated it nonetheless.

Pulling the arrows out was a horrible business, worse than cleaning and dressing the wounds afterwards. He warned the wolf in his care of each move he made, narrating the whole process in a low, soothing voice he usually only reserved for traumatized children or sleep deprived Witchers waking up from nightmares.

When all was said and done the adrenalin had left his system once and for all and his eyelids were drooping. The thought of trudging back through the dark to get to his bedroll, probably to get lost along the way, was not an option. So he flopped onto a grassy bit near the fire and let sleep claim him.

He wondered if the Witcher wolves would still be there in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What‘s better than one cursed Witcher? Three! I‘ve been wanting to write this fic for ages now, exploring some of the Witchers family dynamics in wolf form.
> 
> That said updates will be a bit slower than usual. I‘m currently also writing on the next installment for Soul Bound, my Master Thesis and have some other stuff with deadlines attached going on. I‘ll try to keep to a semi weekly schedule, though.


	2. Chapter 2

It was nearing midday when his body decided that he had had enough rest. His back was enforcing fierce vengance for the time spent sleeping on the hard ground in the position of a starfish and his lips were chapped and dry, body drained of water. And yet a smile stole itself onto his face as he slowly sat up and stretched to work out the kinks in his back.

The wolves were still there.

Well, two of them at least. Geralt and the black one (he really needed to come up with names). They lay a few feet apart from each other locked into what looked like a small staring contest. Geralt would try to crawl a bit closer and the other would start to bare his teeth making the White Wolf stop. Only for him to move again when the smaller one blinked. Despite the signs of displeasure from the injured one it was clear to Jaskier that this was some sort of game. Without hands to use to keep themselves occupied the two must have been bored out of their minds waiting for the bard to wake up.

Both stopped what they had been doing as Jaskier moved, heads and ears perking up and two sets of beautiful golden eyes tracking his every move.

Jaskier, used to being the focus of attention of all kinds and far too groggy to be nervous, waved at them with a half smile and a yawn.

„Good morning, darlings. How‘s the patient?“ He asked as he took in his surroundings.

One of them, probably Geralt, had dragged the rest of the bards stuff back to this camp. A bit worried Jaskier inspected his lute, looking for bite marks or scratches. Only a bit of dirt clung to the underside and the instrument was only slightly out of tune.

Geralt must have taken extreme care with it and Jaskier send a beaming smile his way, making the huge wolf turn his head with a huff.

The black one sneezed, mirth sparkling in his eyes. To answer Jaskiers earlier question he stood and limped over to the bard, nudging at the side of the instrument with a growl.

„I know it‘s out of tune, dear heart. That‘s why I‘m tuning it- Hey! No gnawing at my beloved lady! Shoo! Look for a stick or a bone or something! Really is this how you thank me for patching you up in the middle of the night? The nerve!“

Despite his show of outrage Jaskier was careful as he shoved the wolfs head away from his intrument, yelping when he was snapped at for his trouble. At that point Geralt had come over, whenching himself between the two quarreling parties, growling up a storm.

As the two wolves postured at each other Jaskier took the time to search his memory for any names Geralt might have given him of other Witchers, strumming an idle tune while he did.

They had to be from the wolf school, not only because of the rather obvious choice of transformation, but also because of the medaillons that Jaskier had spied on all their necks.

Now Geralt had never been the most talkative, but was even more silent about his past. And not often was he drunk enough (something that took either mixing alcohol with White Gull or copious amounts of strong spirit and a whole damn lot of money) to spill some interesting facts.

It did happen one or two times though, treasured dearly by the bard on account of their sheer hilariousness and thus they were remembered well.

 _Let‘s see, I know Geralt had performed a limerick once while we got shitfaced after a hunt… How did it go again? Lambert, Lambert what a prick- oh yes that must be the black one._ Jaskier thought as he watched the two trying to assert dominance over each other. Yeah, that seemed to be right. Then the brown one had to be either Eskel or Vesemir.

He started to hum, attention devided between thinking about the identity of the foreign wolves and the limerick he had just remembered. It would make for a fun ditty if he only got the melody right. It had to be catchy and annoying to a degree, something the brothers could sing in Kaer Morhen while drunk on White Gull. Something to drive Lambert up the wall not that this seemed to be a very hard feat. That would be a fit revenge for being an ungrateful brat. No one touched his lute with the intention of harm and got away with it.

 _Anyway_ , Jaskier tried to get back on his previous train of thought. He doubted the brown wolf was Geralts surrogate father. He would have had more control over the pack. And anyway the brown one didn‘t look old, as far as one could guess at the age of wolves. Eskel then.

As if summoned by the thought Eskel appeared from the underbrush, dragging a dead deer behind him. Jaskier jumped up at the sight, fingers catching on the strings in his haste, sending a dissonant chord into the air that made Lambert howl. Jaskier ignored the youngest ones glare. His stomach had been rumbling since he had woken up, he had every reason to be excited!

„Brunch! How wonderful, thank you Eskel!“ Jaskier exlaimed setting his lute down and skipping towards the cursed Witcher.

The wolves stood frozen for but a second before jumping (and in Lamberts case limping) over to the carcass, building one, very uneven wall of growling fur. Eskel took a bit longer to get the memo that they were supposed to protect the dead animal from the bard, probably shocked that Jaskier had adressed him by his name.

„Really? Do you want to eat that sans fur?“ Jaskier huffed, putting his hands on his hips and raising an eyebrow. A gesture his mother had used on him all the time as a kid. It had annoyed him to no end back then, which meant that it was the perfect weapon for Witchers.

They bristled at him a little, but in the end let him through to skin the animal and divide it up into parts. Jaskier laid out his plans while he worked, well aware that three hungry, probably territorial wolves were watching his every move.

Maybe he should be more worried about that.

Eh, if he worried about every little thing he wouldn‘t have decided to tag along with an antisocial Witcher in the first place.

„I hope you have a lead on what has turned you and how to reverse it because I‘d hate to seek out Yennefer. Is La- Lambert! Get your nose away from that or I‘ll make sure there will be nothing to eat for you!“

The wolf in question gave him a coy look and then slowly, daringly raised his leg over the lute, holding eye contact with him the whole time. Jaskier jumped away from his task "Don't you dare!"

Geralt was faster than him, bodily shoving away his brother who wheezed at the sudden rough treatment.

"Serves you right." Jaskier commented. "I hope you opened none of your wounds with that stunt of yours. I don't have infinite supplies of bandages."

Task momentarily forgotten to check over Lambert he turned his back on the food. A bad idea. Only Geralts low, warning rumble alerted him to the fact that someone was trying to steal the few bits he had already cut out.

"Eskel! Shoo! I'm not done with that. You'll all get your fair serving... Don't make me come over!" Yes, he knew his threats weren't very impressive given that Eskel could easily overpower him. For some reason something in his tone must have been enough though, because the wolf backed off with a snort.

"Good. Thank you for being reasonable. Lambert you seem to be fine. Geralt keep protecting my precious lute, Eskel sit there and be pretty and you lot leave me to prepare the food. I'm starving just as much as you are."

Jaskier felt as though he was commandeering a pack of children. All of them grumbled with an astonishing amount of attitude at his orders. Well Lambert and Geralt did, Eskel just looked unsure and confused.

The next challenge after dividing up the animal into parts was giving everyone their fair share. The bard had already gathered that his friends didn't care if the flesh was raw or roasted and as soon as he was done he had three wolves fighting to get to the food.

As fast as he could, using the fact that there was currently a ball of fluff wrestling all over the camp site, he took some for himself to roast on the fire he'd have to set up again. Then he took the opportunity to grab a hopefully big enough portion for a Witcher wolf and took Lambert by the scruff, who lay panting and annoyed a little ways away from the other two still fighting brothers.

Of course he was bit at for his trouble, but teeth only caught on his sleeve and Lambert soon picked up on the fact that Jaskier was helping. Together they settled down to watch the show the other two were putting on for them. Jaskier building up the fire again while Lambert gulfed down his ration.

By the time the wolves had fought out the eating order and had filled their bellies Jaskiers food was done and Lambert had lain down beside him, waiting for a good opportunity to snatch some of Jaskiers breakfast, too.

"Don't look at me like that Geralt. You three were preventing me from eating, so you'll just have to wait until I'm done."

He did hurry up a bit after that, of course. The urgency to find out what had happened to the three Witchers enough to fire him on.

~~~

Packing up camp had thankfully been an easy task, his (was it his now?) pack waiting for him to finish before Geralt started herding him into a specific direction again. Eskel had taken to walking beside Lambert, letting the youngest brother lean on him every now and then. He was already moving quite well given the extent of his injuries. But some wounds still took time to heal even for Witchers.

They were back on the road in no time. And thank the heavens for that. Jaskier never hid how fond he was of Geralt and his wolf form was both stunning and absolutely adorable. But that did not divert from the fact that being pushed and pulled around by an overeager puppy while trying to not trip over roots or get smacked by branches was damn fucking annoying. The sleeves of his poor doublet were bitten through, too.

His three companions, of course, didn't care for the state of his favourite piece of clothing, on account of being tastefully naked, as wild animals were supposed to be. Not that Geralt had ever particularly bothered with the state of Jaskiers clothes before.

Heathens. All of them.

Geralt was trodding ahead of them, sniffing the ground and zickzacking from one bush to the next, high on alert. Jaskier had made sure to be the one in the back so he could watch over the other two. Lambert especially didn't seem to like him at the rear, sending him wary looks now and then.

Jaskier rolled his eyes at the youngest ones antics. Really as if he would have gone to all the trouble of bandaging him up just to kick him in the back now. Although given the cruelty of some of those bigoted humans the bard wasn't sure if Lambert had maybe made experiences like that before.

And damn if that didn't make him want to murder someone. Preferably the one to put the distrust in his dear Witchers eyes. Would escalate into a genocide pretty soon he'd wager.

Geralts loud bark made him come back to the real world in time to see the group of people. It was still a little too late, though. They had already been spotted and apparently a bard surrounded by a pack of wolves was categorized as a threat.

A scream shot through the air and before he knew it three armed people were running towards him.

"Geralt, Eskel run!" Jaskier urged, scooping up Lambert to take Eskels reason to stay away from him.

There shone a sort of primal fear warring with rage in the brown wolfs eyes, but Jaskiers steady smile and insistant shoo was obeyed. That Geralt did exactly as he asked without even a glance back probably helped, too.

Unfortunately Lambert didn't want to play along, because of fucking course he had to be difficult. He squirmed and growled in his arms and overall made it very hard to not accidently drop him.

"Don't you fucking dare to bite me! I'm trying to save your fucking life!" Jaskier snarled right in the wolves face, pressing his nose against the cold snout.

That did the trick. Lambert went limp with a soft whine and Jaskier could easily rearrange him so he was laying comfortably in his arms.

They managed to sort themselves out not a second too late for as soon as they were done the three men were already upon them. They wore cheap, not very well kept armor and their swords did very much not gleam in the sun. Jaskier plastered on his best imitation of a relieved smile.

"Hullo dear gentleman! Thank you so much for chasing away those wolves! Me and poor Blacky here would surely have perished weren't it for your daring interference!"

One of the men, a burly fellow with cropped brown hair and a crooked nose furrowed his brow, eyeing the huge beast in Jaskiers arms.

"That's a wolf." he stated, sounding unsure.

"I can assure you he is not."

"Looks lik 'em." another piped in, scraping the tip of his sword on the ground.

Lambert winced at the sight and Jaskier could only hum in agreement. That sword was probably as dull as a spoon by now.

"He's a crossbreed. But as you can see gentle as a lamb." The bard cradled the wolf a bit closer to proof his point, thoroughly shocked when Lambert stretched up to lick his face.

"Huh. Well, take care. Wolves're still around I bet." The one with the crooked nose said.

"I will. Thank you ever so much for your assistance."

They parted ways without a fuss not much later, the two woman with their children that had been part of the travelling group shooting him and his baggage worried glances as they went by.

Jaskier didn't dare let Lambert down until they were well out of sight. Fortunately the cursed Witcher stayed still for the duration, even pressing himself into the bards chest a bit. He still gave a happy bark when Jaskier gently sat him down mindful of his injuries.

"You can come out now!"

Two worried wolves shot out on the road immediately, sniffing at Lambert and Jaskier to make sure that both were okay.

"It's fine. We're fine, I promise." Jaskier made a face as he wiped at the dried spit Lamberts tongue had left behind. "Eww, Lambert was that really neccessary? I stink like wet dog now. And how come you're so heavy?! I think I busted my back carrying you around like that."

He got a soft whine as an answer and without thinking Jaskier bent down to pat Lamberts head, ruffling the fur behind the ears. "It's alright, you're cuddly."

Geralt used the change in heigth to lean up to Jaskier then, paws on the bards shoulders. The sudden weight caused Jaskier to loose balance. The Witcher went down with him with a surreal amount of grace, scenting the spot Lambert had marked and promptly licking over it.

"Geralt! What the fuck!"

The White Wolf looked about as shocked as he was and then shuffled away, bashfully turning his head towards the ground. Eskel was probably laughing at them both. That or he had gone into a coughing fit.

They agreed to keep at least two wolves hidden from view at all times while travelling on the road after that. No one wanted a repeat of what had happened that day.

Although Jaskier really hadn't minded the solid block of warmth and fur cradled against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is running away from me again XD I was planning for this to be a oneshot, alas I suck at keeping things short.


	3. Chapter 3

Jaskier had left the wolves to figure out who wanted to keep him company to guide him around. Thus he ended up with Geralt and Eskel alternating between shifts. Which was a fancy way of saying that they both ran around and disappeared into the bushes just to cross each others paths again and occasionally rubbed up on Jaskier. Lambert, for some unimaginable reason, seemed to be avoiding him even though he took care to stay semi visible at all times.

Walking along the road with at least one playful, furry companion at his side, the weak sun sending down rays of gold and the wind rustling through the first leaves of the year was a bliss Jaskier hadn't known before. It was absolutely delightful to watch the cursed Witchers as they explored their surroundings. He had never seen Geralt so carefree.

They hadn't encountered anyone else after that first time. Which made for relaxed travelling where Jaskier could let his fingers skim over his lute strings and try out new lyrics.

He didn't yet start on _The Packs Shepherd_ , although he was already brimming to the top with ideas. They were already collectively grumbling about his excessive use of his beloved instrument. They'd probably maul him if they heard him turning their little adventure into an unforgettable song.

The breaking of twigs and a short bark told him that Geralt and Eskel were changing shifts again. And right on time a heavy weight briefly pressed into his side before the White Wolf skipped ahead, tail wagging without restraint.

The wolves set a brisk pace, one Jaskier was thankfully used to after years of trailing behind a Witcher. Between Eskels and Geralts guidance Jaskier was herded towards Murivel, his original travel destination.

It was there that the next problem reared its head to demand attention. He stepped off the path onto a nearby patch of grass and whistled. Not even a second later Geralt and Lambert ran towards him, nearly barreling him over in their enthusiasm. Soon he had a semi circle of wolves sitting attentatively in front of him, waiting more or less patiently for him to speak. Jaskier really wanted to give them a treat for good behavior.

"You need to stay out of the town while I stock up and earn some coin. I could take one of you with me, but the three of you together will gather far too much attention, and most certainly not the good kind."

Bending down to let Geralt press forward and into him with an exasperated whine, Jaskier laughed, petting his favourite Witcher. "What? You volunteer to protect me from the vile townsfolk, Geralt?"

A hot puff of air shot over the cold skin of his cheek and before he knew it a hard skull collided with his jaw as Geralt tried to wriggle out of the hug. "Oww! Okay, you want to tell me something. Cool. Can you do it without maiming me, please?"

Wide golden eyes stared up at him. Geralt scooted away with what might have been an apologetic grunt to make room for Eskel, who shuffled closer to gently nose at the spot Jaskier was rubbing at to get rid of the pain. Jaskier used the proximity to stroke through the brown wolves fur, running his hand from the top of Eskels head down his spine and back up again. It had been supposed to sooth, but the Witcher only startled and pulled back with a shocked broken noise.

"Sorry. I couldn't help myself." It was so easy to forget that these were people under all that fur. He hated that he was surely giving Geralts brothers a horrible first impression, touching and speaking to them as though they were pets not men.

With a heavy sigh Jaskier stood, freeing himself of dust that wasn't there to busy his hands. Lambert had trodded up to Eskel, nudging and biting at him, teasing, until the two were playfully wrestling on the ground. At least Jaskier hoped it was a play fight. It looked kind of dangerous.

Geralt gave a short, sharp howl and the other two perked up, untangling themselves from each other only a bit, so they could both look at their oldest brother.

It was fascinating seeing them communicate. Jaskier had zero to no idea what they were talking about or how they did it. There were some noises, a bark and a whine here and there, but it was mostly body language. Jaskier had never had a dog in his life, so he had never learned to read what certain postures or noises meant.

They seemed to have come to an agreement without him, though. Eskel and Lambert stood, send two happy tail wags in Jaskiers direction and sprinted off back into cover. That left Geralt sitting in the bright afternoon sun, looking like a king from another world with his silver fur shimmering in the soft light.

A tilt of the head was all the information Jaskier needed, Geralts body language aimed towards him still easy to decipher even under the myriad of new wolfish mannerisms.

The White Wolf kept himself close to Jaskier, pressing against his leg as they entered Murivel. In turn Jaskier let his hand wander to the back of Geralts neck, fingertips brushing against the coarse fur. People gave them curious looks, only a few fearfully scooting back.

Most ignored them altogether, though, staring resolutely at the ground as they staggered towards their destinations. Jaskier furrowed his brow at the strange behavior. Spring time was high season for farmers and townsfolk alike, but this level of exhaustion was unnatural. Not even the children were playing in the streets. Instead he spotted some small ones huddled together leaning on a rickety fence, dozing.

The air was thick with something Jaskier couldn't name. It was as if it was filled with bees, buzzing and vibrating and yes, even stinging a little. Was there poisonous gas leaking out somewhere? Jaskier chanced a quick glance at Geralt. The Witchers keen sense of smell would have alerted him to that fact immediately, but the wolf was acting calm even if he was a little tense. No immediate danger then.

The first stop they made were the stables. Jaskier had an inkling of what awaited him when Geralt bounded off, barking in excitement. And true to his suspicion there she stood, in a stall at the very back. Roach.

"Darling!" Jaskier cheered, happy noise mixing with the delighted barking of his friend.

The mare endured the storm of affection with grace, bumping her snout to Geralts and nibbling on Jaskiers doublet as a greeting. Another soft whinny alerted them to a second horse. It was a pretty black, sturdy war horse, which glared at them with an attitude rivalling Roachs.

To his utter surprise Geralt also greeted that one, earning himself a dismissive huff for his trouble.

"One of the others?" Jaskier guessed, holding out his hand to let the stallion sniff him. He would need to buy treats. Lots of treats.

The wolf nooded, tail thumping hard on the filth covered ground.

"Okay, bark at the right name. Eskel-" A sharp howl interrupted him. "Eskel then. Did Lambert have a horse, too?" That got him a shake of the head, which turned into a full body shake that send straw flying everywhere.

Before they explored Murivel further Jaskier talked to the stablehand and ensured that Roach and Scorpion (the name he got from the stablehand) were allowed to stay and be tended to for a little while longer.

The boy was close to dead on his feet as he was spoken to and had a horrible limp, which looked like he was trying to avoid putting weight on either of his feet. When Jaskier asked about it he only got a few mumbled words out of the lad.

"If you wanna know talk to the mage in the tower."

Jaskier nodded his thanks and pressed a few more coins than necessary into the slack hand of the boy.

After the stablehand was out of earshot Jaskier turned to Geralt, arms crossed. "Let me guess, next stop tower? I really hope this isn't Yennefer meddling with things she shouldn't again. Please tell me it's an other crazy mage up there, Geralt. Would be better for you, too. You'll never hear the end of it when she finds you like this. Might make you her personal lapdog after all. And I won't be of much help defending you against her, no sir. Sorry, but I'm just a humble bard and you did say I shouldn't go around antagonizing powerful magicians anymore-"

Jaskier chanced a look at Geralt, who flicked his ear in response to the onslaught of words before trodding off. Of course his Witcher friend went out on him in the middle of a rather fine tirade. Typical.

At least the tower wasn't that far away, Jaskier really was starting to vibrate with excitement. There was an amazing story here he just knew it!

As soon as they reached the large double doors of the structure Geralt began howling. Two answering ones could be heard not far away and right when the door opened Eskel and Lambert joined their pack again. The tower was at the edge of the town, the two wolves must have run around it to end up here.

"Triss! Oh the only mage with her head straight on, I'm so glad to see you!" Jaskier exclaimed, drawing her into a hug that was reciprocated with a laugh.

"You're only happy to see me because I'm not Yennefer."

"Now, now don't sell yourself short I wouldn't have greeted just any sorceress like that!"

"Charm-"

Triss wasn't able to finish her sentence. The two were forcefully divided by a mass of muscle and white fur worming itself between the two with a sharp bark. Jaskier felt his wolf press into him hard enough to make him take a step back.

"Geralt!"

The eyes of the mage twinkled with mirth, but the amusement soon faded into a worried frown.

"You found them." she sighed in relief, "I'm so glad you did. I tried to locate them after- No come on in first, you three as well. Come, come."

Jaskier stepped through the treshold, his pack hot on his heels. Lambert let out a continues low rumble as he slunk in along him, tense as a bow string. Eskel, too, seemed wary, scenting the air with ears pressed flat to his skull. Geralt and Jaskier were probably the only calm ones with the White Wolf speeding up to walk next to Triss, staring up at her as she led them into a circular room with a table and four chairs in the middle. Sunlight flooded the whole space, the dozens of plants straining their flowers towards it. Jaskier saw a few familiar ones, myrtle and wolfsbane, chamomille and celandine, but there were also ones he didn't know. Things with huge bright orange petals, others looking like miniature versions of Archespores only much less alive and aggressive. Vines climbed along the walls, purple leaves sprouting next to vicious thorns.

Despite the hour of the day a fire was burning in the hearth, a steaming kettle on it that Triss took. She had to rearrange her things on the table to be able to fit two cups and the kettle on there, papers and vials littering the surface in an organized mess.

She talked while she prepared everything leaving Jaskier to take a seat where he desired.

"I contacted Geralt before the winters end this year. Asking for help and requesting more than one Witcher to come. As you probably noticed Murivel is plagued by a terrible exhaustion. That's because three Fae have decided to claim this town as their playground."

"Fae? I never encountered one of those before. What are they like?" Jaskier accepted the cup with a thankful nod, careful not to disturb any of the papers or working equipement. Eskel and Lambert had laid down on either side of his chair, heads held high and alert. Geralt was sitting by the fire, watching.

"Creepy, cruel fuckers mostly. These three? No exception. They've been coming here once or twice a week for months now. They hover over the town, play their music and everyone stops whatever they are doing to dance."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"It wouldn't be, but they can't stop. Either they dance until they faint from exhaustion or until the fae grow bored and leave. Two or three days aren't enough to recover from that. Especially the elders suffer. Some dropped dead from overexertion already. And feet are danced bloody, infection setting in not long after in some cases. They've took the joy of music and turned it into a torture device. I've had my work cut out for me."

"That's... that's horrible! And you? Aren't you affected?"

Triss shook her head. "I'm mostly out of range. And this tower is fortified with magic, it weakens the allure. I might catch myself tapping my feet along, but that's about it. Whenever I have to go into town I drink a potion, keeps the Fae magic at bay for a bit. I've had the misfortune to get caught up in the dancing a few times, but not enough to cause serious damage."

"That's good. That's good. I'm glad you're alright. And the potion? Why not sell it to the townsfolk?"

Triss shook her head, the hand not holding the cup traced along the written words on a brittle paper laying next to her. "There wouldn't be enough. And anyway it doesn't hold long. We never know when they will appear next, so the people would need to down a potion approximately ten times a day, including night time."

"Right." Jaskier swallowed. "Not an option then. And Geralt, Eskel and Lambert. They came to take care of the Fae."

Triss nodded. "I wasn't there when they confronted them. But I heard from one of my patients about what happened. Fae are notorious for having a way with words. Ironically they are all for politeness and appreciate a good phrasing more than blunt steel."

"Witchers aren't very good with words." Jaskier stated before Triss could speak out the thought. Lambert bumped against his chair and let out an irritated bark at the statement, but Eskel made sure that Jaskier didn't topple over, acting as a counterweight. Geralt flopped down in front of the fireplace with a huff.

"They're cute when they sulk." Triss chuckled. Jaskier had to grab Lambert by the scruff to prevent him from lunging at her. He nearly dislocated his shoulder trying to hold the snarling wolfs weight.

"So Geralt, Eskel and Lambert went to confront the Fae, tried to persuade them to stop harrassing the town, somehow offended them instead and got turned into wolves?" This was hilarious. Pity he had to hold in his laughter, Lambert was already looking ready to murder someone as it was. Witcher healing apparently worked in wolf form, too. Lambert was acting as though he had never been pierced by several arrows to begin with.

"That's exactly what happened, yes. Probably displaced them as well. I can't think of another reason as to why they wouldn't have come to me right after."

"Sounds logical, yeah. Now the important question: Can you, dear lady, turn them back?"

Triss held out her hand and Geralt came over enduring the soft strokes through his fur as she concentrated, the air around her palms flickering.

She pulled back with a grimace. "No. Fae magic is... complicated to say the least. Wild. I could try to use a counterspell made for a traditional tranformation curse, but the chance is higher that it'll hurt them than heal them."

"Absolutely not then. Don't look at me like I'm being the irrational one here Eskel and you can also stop your grumpy growling Lambert. I won't have you being experimented on if I can help it. You'll not get hurt on my watch."

The taken aback stares of them both clawed at his weak poets heart. The poor things were so used to just rolling with the punches that they weren't even thinking about their well being anymore. At least he had gotten Geralt to accept his protectiveness. He didn't kick up a fuss.

"I could write to Vesemir. Maybe he could deal with the Fae, make them change them back."

"No. There won't be any more Witchers involved in this mess." Jaskier decided. "As far as I see it we already have the perfect candidate to charm them into uncursing our friends here: Me!"

Immediately the air was filled by loud protests. Geralt jumped up and howled as thought he had been stung by a bunch of bees, Lambert was barking up a storm and Eskel whined, nosing into his palm as thought to try and convince him not to be stupid.

Triss hid her smirk behind her cup. Jaskier didn't have such a barrier, his hands busy trying to rile in his aggravated companions. Only years of showmanship let him keep the frown in place.

"Stop your whining." he admonished them gently, delighted when Eskel let him scratch behind his ears "I may not be a Witcher, but I'm the most lovable, dashing young man to ever walk the continent. I've charmed myself into the pants of counts and countesses alike, know all the court speak and I'm the best bard around. They won't stand a chance against me."

"I forgot how modest you always are." Triss laughed. "Joking aside this might just work. Not much harm in trying."

Disregarding the waves of distress coming from his pack members Jaskier grinned. The Fae had just been in town, which meant that they wouldn't be back for at least two more days. In the meantime Triss let him stay in a guest room in her tower so his friends wouldn't have to part from him.

Jaskier marveled at the pure luxury he was being granted as he stepped into his lodgings. The bed was big enough for three of him, probably made for orgies. Somehow mages were really into that sort of thing. Jaskier hoped the sheets were fresh.

Opposite the bed was a fire place, clean and empty, but with a neat stack of wood beside it. The thin window lead out to a balcony overlooking the fields and forests surrounding the area. The wind and sun was being prevented from entering through there by two thick, red curtains. A wash basin stood next to the bed and on a night stand fresh soap and some scented oils were lined up.

As Jaskier cleaned himself up and came back down to join Triss in her plant studies to chat about fae manners he was shadowed at all times by the three wolves. They were quiet. Especially Geralt, who hung back and ignored Jaskier even when he was being called.

Jaskier in turn ignored their behavior, talking and playfully flirting with Triss instead. The three of them could sulk all they wanted, Jaskier wouldn't let himself be swayed.

He cracked the first night while getting ready for bed. Geralt had opted to lie in front of the now roaring fireplace, curled away from Jaskier, occasionally letting out low, displeased grunts. Eskel had sat down next to the door, watching Jaskiers every move and Lambert was stalking around the room, more than once nearly tripping the bard.

"Okay this is getting ridiculous! Geralt you're being ridiculous! Even Lambert is behaving better!" Jaskier exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and flopping down at the side of the bed. He was already stripped down to his breeches, goosebumps raising along his arms despite the heat from the fireplace.

Lambert let out a confused whine and briefly stopped in his pacing before taking it up again. Geralt only curled into himself tighter. Jaskier could see him snarl, hackles raised.

"Right. Keep on sulking then. You know that won't stop me. So either you can come share the bed with me or you can lay there being miserable. Bloody brooding Witchers. Not you Eskel, you're doing great, sweety. Anyway you keep doing what your doing, join me in bed if you want, that goes for all of you, it's big enough after all. Good night."

He climbed into bed and tried to enjoy sleeping in a real, comfortable bed again. But he was left alone with a wide expance of mattress and a blanket big enough to wrap Roach in. And despite the shuffling and occasional grunt or snore Jaskier had never felt so lonely in his life.

The moon had nearly finished its travels through the night sky and Jaskier hadn't slept a wink when finally a familiar weight settled down beside him. Hesitant, scared to shoo him away should he move to much too fast, Jaskier turned towards the mass of fur and reached out to trace nimble fingers along Geralts spine.

There was a snuffle and then Geralt scooted closer, Jaskier moving the rest of the way to erase the gap between them and sling his arm around his friend. Geralt burrowed into his chest, a cold nose nuzzling into the junction where his jaw met his throat. Jaskier flinched at the lick he received right after, but only wriggled his other arm under the wolf and pulled him closer, idly petting Geralts head.

Securely wrapped around his best friend sleep soon claimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a while to write and I'm still not happy with some of the phrasings, but eh, probably won't  
> be able to make it any better.
> 
> The idea with the fae comes from a celtic myth I've heard about a while back. I can't remember exactly which one  
> it was, but I'm sure I've heard about it from the youtube channel "Overly Sarcastic Productions" it's amazing go watch it.
> 
> Does Murivel have a tower? I have no fucking clue. If not call it artistic license.


	4. Chapter 4

The next days Triss instructed him on how to best approach the Fae, telling him about the various courts and mannerisms. What he should and shouldn't say. She estimated when the fair folk would appear again and when the time had come Jaskier went into the town, potion to keep the Fae magic at bay running through his bloodstream.

His pack wouldn't leave his side when he did, despite Jaskiers heavy protests about scared villagers and possible stones being thrown in falsely assumed self defense. He needn't have worried. The people here must have already seen it all. That or they were just too tired to care about a pack of wolves.

Jaskier wasn't stopped once while he wandered the town, picking up wares here and there. He didn't dare to play at the tavern. He had enough tact to know that these poor sods were probably fed up with music. And as sad as that was Jaskier did understand their resentment. Fuck, once he got his hands on those damned Fae he would wring their necks! Music was to be enjoyed not feared!

His rounds usually ended in the market square right at the well. He would stare up at the sky and wait for any sign of the fair folk. When he noticed the potions effects waning (a slow sharpening of his previously dampened senses) he would leave again.

"Maybe they finally grew tired of their game and left." Triss that one morning, anxiously looking out over the fields, arms crossed to keep the cold at bay.

Days had passed, a longer break than usual and everyone was getting skittish, even the townsfolk. Jaskier was sitting at the foot of his bed, Geralts head in his lap, Eskel and Lambert rolling around the bed, locked in a playfight.

Eskel and Geralt had been engaging Lambert in more and more of those wrestling matches as time went on and the youngest of the three got more restless and snappy. Jaskier could understand Lamberts bad mood. He too hated waiting.

"Let's hope not." Jaskier muttered, not in a very good mood himself. "Would there be a way to track them? I mean, if?"

Triss shrugged "Not really. Nothing quite safe, at the very least."

"I don't exactly care for safety here. You know that."

A shadow of a smile tugged at her lips. She was tired, Jaskier knew. Between remaking the potion, looking for a way to turn the Witchers back without the Faes mercy and helping the townsfolk recover she was working herself into the ground. Jaskier helped as much as he could, but his potion and magical knowledge was sketchy at best.

"Shy of finding a fairy ring and willfully stepping into the otherworld to confront the Fae head on? I can't think of another way to track them."

Jaskier swallowed, ignoring the growling of all three Witchers voicing their obvious displeasure at the thought. "Right. So I'd better go out and hope they come back. Wouldn't want to go into another world to clean up this mess."

"Don't forget to take the potion. Be safe."

"Of course."

That day the heavens were dull and grey, storm clouds hanging threatening on the far off horizon. Jaskier watched the slow moving mass above him, in something that must have either come close to a trance or a meditative state. Jaskier knew humans didn't have the best of senses to begin with, having them dampened even further seriously messed with his head sometimes. It was like being underwater, suffocating and slightly panic enducing.

Jaskier blamed the potion for not noticing the fae when they finally decided to deign the town with their presence again. The thing that tipped him off to the others arrival was the sweet, upbeat melody. Soon after a flurry of motion caught Jaskiers attention. His wolves growled and shifted closer to him as the townsfolk dropped whatever they had been doing and started to pair up.

Even the least dexterous looking man and woman suddenly turned into a graceful dancer, twisting and twirling with their partner. There was a wild abandon in their movements and yet you could have gone to the court in Cidaris and wouldn't have found anything more elegant or more formal.

There was beauty in the way the bodies moved and partners switched. The faces of the people, however, betrayed their plight. Pain and desperation twisted their faces, their eyes bright and aware feeling every unnatural twist and pulled muscle as the control of their bodies were taken away from them. Tears were running down puffed red cheeks. No one was laughing. No one was even smiling.

They cast glances at him, the ones who passed Jaskier, and their eyes pleaded him to make it stop. And silently Jaskier fowed to help them.

"Another one refusing to dance?" A voice clear as a bell rang from one of the rooftops to his right.

"And he brought the mean ones with him." A smooth tenor added from behind him.

"He's got a lute on his back, think he can use it?" the last, distinctly female voice he heard at his left.

Jaskier had a hard time stepping away from the well with three huge wolves pressing up against him from all sides. The dancing people made room for him, at least, twirling around him in wide arcs.

He managed to nudge his protectors a few inches away from him and briefly surveyed the Fae that had addressed him. They all looked vaguely the same. Tall, lanky but elegant bodies, high cheekbones and fair hair that moved in the air despite there being no wind. They were clad in clothes that resembled leaves, flowers and berries braided and stitched into the ribbons and seams. It was hard to tell whether they were male or female. He doubted even the last ones gender.

From this far away and with the potion dulling his senses he couldn't make out their eyes. He only saw two darkish dots fixating him. He bowed to them with a flourish "Pleased to meet you, you may know me as Jaskier the Bard. And I can assure you I'm very well versed in the ways of the lute."

The Fae crowded closer together not missing one beat in their music, nimble fingers plucking at the strings of their harps to entertwine notes into an alluring song that made Jaskier want to tap his foot even without the magics aid. They assessed him, gazing intently at his form and Jaskier patiently let them.

"You have more manners than the last ones." the one in the middle surmised. He was a little taller than the others, his hair a tad darker, clad in red and gold.

"I would hope so."

"Have you come to slay us too?" the vaguely female sounding one with curly short hair asked, her colours blue and silver. Autumn and winter maybe? As much as one could colour code seasons that would have been Jaskiers best bet. That would make them part of the Unseelie court then, right? Usually malevolent, Triss had said.

But the last one, the smallest, slightly leaning against the red and golden Fae in the middle wore bright and green leaves and had dandelions braided into their hair. Did Seelie and Unseelie courts travel together, maybe? Anyway Jaskier better stay cautious.

"I most certainly have no such intention." Jaskier assured them. "I would, however, very much like to convince you to leave these poor people alone and turn my friends back into their normal Witcher forms."

The green one tilted their head and suddenly Jaskier felt like an especially weak kind of prey. "And how would you go about that, I wonder?"

Well... Jaskier hadn't thought that far ahead, to be honest. His plan had been to take the potion, go to the town square, talk to the Fae and hope no one got killed.

"You have exceptional talent with those harps of yours. And as I said I'm quite skilled with the lute. How about we have ourselves a little contest? If I can surprise you with my talent, meaning if I can counter your rhymes until you run out of them, I win. If you find me lacking because I mess up a chord or don't find the words to counter your rhymes any more you win."

"The stakes?" The blue one asked, intrigued.

The Fae were still playing, the people still dancing around Jaskier. It seemed like nearly everyone from the town had been coaxed to come here by now. And despite the excessive dancing all heads were turned towards them, watching with rapt attention how the events were turning out.

"If I win you will leave this town in peace, which means no more coming here to play music and force the people to dance, but also no causing any other harm, physical, mental or otherwise to them or their lifestock including pets, cattle, their houses and the like." Jaskier thought briefly if that would do. Triss had warned him to be very specific. Fae were notorious for twisting words and finding loopholes, much like djinn. And Jaskier really didn't want another debacle like that. "There won't be any pranks, tricks or anything of the kind either. And of course you'll turn these three here." He briefly stroked through each of his wolves fur as much to show whom he meant as to sooth his distressed companions. "Back to how they were, correct age, appearance, mental capacity et cetera. And if you win I will leave with them and no one will bother you ever again."

"Now that doesn't sound fair at all." the red one admonished with a mean smile. "You demand quite a bit of a price, but we wouldn't be getting anything much out of it. How about a few amendments? Should we win everything stays as it is until we grow tired of it, but we also shall take you with us. You seem quite entertaining, I'm sure our friends would love you."

Geralt howled at the proposal and the teeth of Eskel and Lambert sunk into the delicate fabric of his doublet, trying to yank him away.

Jaskier stumbled a few steps back at the frantic pulling, but eventually digged his feet in. "Stop it you three! Down!"  
His words worked like a whipslash, Geralts howling abruptly cut off and Lambert and Eskel let go of him as if they had been burned, dropping on their haunches. All three stared at him with wide, hurt eyes. Eskel let out a small whimper. Fuck, they knew how to play at his heartstrings.

Carefully he crouched down so he could ruffle through their fur, pulling them close to give everyone a little nudge on the head with his nose. He spoke while he showered his pack with some much needed affection.

"Now listen, I know you're worried, but I've got this. Have a little faith in me, yeah?"

When he next stood the wolves remained quiet and seated. "Good boys." he smiled at them before addressing the Fae again. "My apologies for the rude interruption. I accept the conditions. Shall we begin?"

Three grins were directed at him and suddenly the music stopped. People around him collapsed to the ground or leaned onto each other for support. The air was filled with heavy panting, pained moans and some sniffling. The mass quietened down immediately when the red clothed Fae put his finger to his lips. Jaskier really wanted that particular kind of power. It would have come in handy in a lot of noisy taverns.

The green one, Spring, Jaskier would call them for a lack of better name, straightened from their lounging on the red ones shoulder and hovered closer with an excited spark in their dark blue eyes.

"We'll start shall we?"

Long, dexterous fingers began to dance over the strings of a light wooden harp, an upbeat tone weaving through the air. And just like that the people were yanked back onto their feet, the puppetmasters using them for another show.

" _I'm in stitches with laughter_ ", a warm tenor sang, cheerful and mocking, " _At the courage you've shown/ The Fool that you are/ Who'll save you when you fall?_ "

Jaskier took up his lute and joined the melody with his own, harmonized tune. " _Of the seven arts I'm a master/ I'm certainly no fool _"__ Although Geralt, in this instance would probably heavily disagree with that line. Jaskier gentled the tune down a bit, took the mocking high notes out and replaced them with the warm undercurrent of a deeper melody. Where Springs endings had gone down Jaskier lifted his intonation as a counterpoint. " _There's devotion and love, in everything I do_ "

The red one, Autumn, Jaskier decided to stick to the theme, joined and Jaskiers fingers fumbled to adapt to the sudden shift of tone. The three instruments wound down into a foreboding, heavy waltz, Jaskier providing a heavy beat, showing off his skill at strumming, plucking and drumming at his lute in perfect coordination.

Despite the fact that he was terrified to the bones he was quite enjoying himself. That is up to the point where Autumn decided to sing the next verse, a low rumble like oncoming thunder lurking just below the words.

" _There's a change of seasons looming/While you make merry children die/Love has no place, in a world devoid of grace/Cruelty prevails. Like it always has._ "

Frowning Jaskier lifted the tune again, the Fae following his lead to come back to that soothing melody that made the townsfolk slow down to a calm swaying on the spot.

He made sure to smooth down his voice to a quality he usually only used for lullabies and especially heartbreaking love songs. " _You fear winter when flowers are blooming/ Your arguement like fillingless pie._ " Thanks for that one, Geralt. Jaskier thought, inwardly chuckling. " _The world may be cold,/ but it's ours to warm/ There's a chance for change, there always was._ "

Jaskier pressed his lips together afterwards, sweat gathering on his brow as sensation rushed back, sharpening his senses. Fuck, he hadn't thought this through. The effects of the potion were waning and as soon as that was the case he would be dancing along with the others. It didn't make it impossible to win the contest, but it would make it infinitely harder to concentrate.

The thought of loosing was scary, but not as horrifying as the dip of the melody into something worryingly sinister. And shit he had already thought Autumn was intimidating, but he didn't hold a candle against Winter. Her clear voice cut through the air, hard and cold as ice and just like it, it send chills down Jaskiers spine.

" _A second wind is coming, you're blind if you can't see/ You'll warm the world, you'll soon burn out/ There'll be no one for you to be/ Oh can't you hear the scratching?/ There's a monster inside you, too~_ "

The words drove into him like icicles, paralyzing him. His brain had emptied out, the sharpening of his senses distracting him. Only his fingers still knew what to do, carrying on and buying him time with a short instrumental solo.

Damn it brain, he needed a come back. A good one. Now! This was a perfect opportunity for a good bridge. He had more artistic license there. Just. Damn. Anything!

" _Ahooooooo~_ "

All involved parties flinched in surprise as a chorus of wolves suddenly joined in, their howling floating above the melody, giving it a haunting ring. The harps faltered, Fae blinking in disbelief at the three wolf turned Witchers, who had decided to act as a background choir for Jaskier.

Jaskier was the only one who didn't stop his playing. He grinned so wide his mouth nearly stretched to his ears and let out an enthusiastic " _Ahooo~_ ", taking the song and slowly winding it down into a quiet hum, the last note quivering in the silence.

For several long moments no one moved.

"You win." Spring said, still flabbergasted. The other two nodded in agreement.

"I have to admit that was... something else. Pity we can't take you with us now." Autumn huffed seeming genuinely upset about that.

"Alright show is over. Let's leave." Winter sighed.

"Hey! Wait!"

"We haven't forgotten about our bet, don't worry." Winters gaze roamed over the Witchers. "Well? What are you waiting for? Run on home, pups."

Autumn and Winter turned and left without another word, but Spring dared to approach despite the loud warning growls of Jaskiers pack.

"This was fun." Spring declared as soon as they landed in front of Jaskier, crowding into his space and fastening a brooch of a dandelion onto Jaskiers doublet. "There. For your safety on the road. Maybe when all this has blown over we could have a jamming session again."

Jaskier was still debating if he should decline or not when Spring pulled back with a playful smirk and a wink, narrowly avoiding Geralts and Lamberts sharp teeth.

"See you around!"

Jaskier could do nothing more than wave at the disappearing figure in the sky. He had about three deep breaths time to ground himself when a tentative cheer erupted from the tired crowd.

No one gave a damn about the prickly wolves trying in vain to keep anyone from getting to close to their bard. Men, woman and children alike staggered towards Jaskier, patting his shoulders and hugging him. Quite a few people were crying outright. Which only meant that when the crowd finally dispersed, to get some much needed rest Jaskiers doublet was half soaked in tears and snot. His trousers not faring any better because of the small children that had clung to them. Ewww.

The trek back to Triss' tower was short but sapped the last bit of Jaskier manic energy out of him. He had praised his wolves the whole way, because what they had done was the smartest, most hilarious and beautiful thing Jaskier had ever witnessed in a musical competition. And they deserved every bit of affection that came their way.

"You're back."

Triss went to hug him but stopped when she saw the state of his clothes. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and really Jaskier didn't blame her. "I'll prepare you a bath." She eyed the Witchers, who were practically attached to Jaskiers legs at that point, with a worried frown. "Get some rest after and tomorrow you'll tell me everything."

Jaskier barely managed an affirmative, vaguely thankful hum. Back in his room he shrugged out of his doublet and breeches and fell onto his bed with a groan, sprawling out like a starfish. Not much later the mattress dipped.

"Ge'rlt!" Jaskier whined when a wet nose poked at his ear, followed by an even wetter tongue that started to aggressively slobber over his whole face.

He was about to make a heroic effort to shove the White Wolf away and save the few parts of dry skin still available when a weight flopped onto his chest and arm on his other side, effectively pinning him down. Lamberts yellow eyes sparkled with mirth as Jaskier dared to open his blue ones for a few seconds to see who had prevented his attempt. As he did, the last Witcher gently lowered himself on Jaskiers legs, head coming to rest on his stomach.

Eventually Geralt had decided that he had reprimanded his bard enough for his reckless behavior and settled down as well. He pressed his body close, Jaskiers other arm buried under Geralts soft stomach. Jaskier barely felt the weight, too distracted by the gaint, furry head that nuzzled his hair and the calming huffs of his companions as they all slowly wound down.

When Triss came up to tell Jaskier that the bath was ready she paused at the doorway with a smile and decided to just perpare a new one in the morning. No way was she going to wake up that pile of adorable idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah! You thought this was the end, didn't you? Not by a long shot~ I still have so much bonding to write XD  
> I'm sorry I'm a sucker for slow burn in all aspects of my writing
> 
> Nothing is more satisfying than howling with your pack.  
> In the morning Jaskier probably won't be feeling his arms or legs anymore, but let's face it that's a minor discomfort in the face of being allowed canine affection.
> 
> I've taken a lot of time writing the lyrics for this chapter, even singing them to see if they could be made into a song. I wanted them to have a sort of arguement in song form (I probably watched too many Disney movies) and I'm actually pretty happy about how it turned out. I took some slightly modified phrases from the songs of The Amazing Devil as easter eggs, too. Because I'm Joey Batey trash, obviously.


	5. Chapter 5

Getting out of bed had been a challenge, his Witchers for once not very happy about getting up early. His arms and legs had felt like lead, too, after spending hours being squished under pounds of heavy muscle. This had made wiggling out from under a pile of wolves that much harder.

But eventually, after a lot of cursing, cuddling and cooing on Jaskiers side and whining, licking and playful biting on the wolves side, Jaskier finally pulled himself free. One hot bath and hearty breakfast later Jaskier and Triss sat in the round destilling room again, Lambert, Eskel and Geralt locked into a sort of all against all wrestling match a few paces away from them to blow off steam. Now that everyone was wide awake the reality of the distinctly not turned back Witchers had come crashing down on them. It made Jaskiers stomach twist and guilt bubble up, clogging his throat.

He must have done something wrong, a phrase too broad, a detail missed. Something that the Fae had used as a loophole. So with his mind in the gutter (and not the fun one) Jaskier retold everything that happened, recounting word for word what he had said in the hopes of figuring this whole mess out.

Triss stayed silent after he had finished, still fighting the smile that had appeared when she had heard about the Witchers joining the song at the end. Jaskier watched his pack while she thought. Eskel and Geralt had Lambert pinned, who was snarling and growling at them, trying in vain to buck them off. Geralt was being stoic and silent as usual, but the wagging tail betrayed him. He was enjoying this thoroughly. Eskel seemed to be goading Lambert on, licking and whining at him until Lambert relaxed with a huff and returned the lick only to turn and bite Eskel in the ear a moment later.

This made Geralt lean down to gnaw at Lamberts in turn, now putting his whole weight onto his youngest brother, while Eskel let out a pitiful, betrayed whine. He really was a great actor, only the enthusiasm in which he joined back into the fray told Jaskier that Eskel wasn't really offended by Lambert playing dirty.

"You didn't specify the time."

"Hm?" Jaskier glanced away from his pack and over to Triss.

"You told the Fae to turn them back fully intact. But you never said _when_."

"Oh fuck..."

At the distressed sound he made Geralt and Eskel trodded over, leaving Lambert to pant on the floor. Shaking hands stroked the two heads that insistently pressed into his tights, but Jaskier barely found comfort in that. This was horrible. He had made such a huge mistake. How could he have forgotten to specify the time? And what now? How long would the Witchers have to stay wolves, because of his failure?

"Calm down, if the brooch is anything to go by they like you."

"Which means _what_?!" Jaskier yelled, voice strangled and cracking. Eskel jerked back at the sudden loud noise and went back over to Lambert, a safe distance away. Geralt wouldn't have any of that however. With a determined growl he jumped and suddenly Jaskier had a lap full of wolf.

The chair creaked dangerously and Jaskiers hand flew out to stabilize himself on the edge of the table, while the other wound around Geralt, who had draped his frontlegs over Jaskiers shoulders, paws linked over his back and was insistingly snuffling into Jaskiers hair.

Jaskier slowly wound both his arms around his favourite Witcher to return the hug and ignored the ache in his legs as they tried to take on the full weight of the wolf. "What does that mean, Triss?" he repeated, softer this time.

"Awwww."

"Triss."

"Sorry. I wish they would shower me with so much affection. But just seeing them like that is fine, too. Cute. Relaxing. Maybe we should start a business."

"Triss, darling. Please stay focussed."

She grinned now, obviously the show in front of her had lifted her mood as well. "Says the one currently petting the most grumpy Witcher I know." she outright laughed at his glare. "Right. That means they probably want to play with you for a little longer. What did Winter say again, when she talked about the bet?"

Jaskier scrunched up his face, trying to remember. He had just told Triss. He should know. Although thinking about anything at all with an aggressively affectionate Geralt in his lap was really fucking hard.

"She said she hadn't forgotten... And that they should run on home."

"That's it then."

"So they'll turn back when they return home? Which I'd guess would be Kaer Morhen."

"It makes the most sense yes, from what I've gathered about Fae behavior. Wouldn't hurt to try at least."

Triss stood with a stretch that made several bones in her back pop and Jaskier mournfully shoved Geralt off of him, beckoning the other two to come closer.

"I can't portal you straight into Kaer Morhen because of the wards, but I can drop you off close by." Triss explained as she waved her hands.

The air in front of her glowed golden and split open to reveal a clearing. Jaskier could spy the grey walls of what probably was the keep in the distance.

"Thank you, Triss."

He managed a total of two steps forward before Geralt snatched the end of his doublet and hauled him back.

"Geralt! What's wrong?"

Looking back he saw that the wolves had turned skittish. Geralt had his ears pressed flat to his skull, hackles raised and tail tugged between his legs. His reluctance was slowly washing over the other two, who glanced at their oldest brother and made little squeaky noises as they danced further back, away from the glowing hole in the air.

"Oh... I forgot. Geralt hates portals."

"Really?" Jaskier whined before bending down to try and grab at Geralt, wanting to pet him and calm him down.

Geralt didn't let him close, though. He jumped back and positioned himself between Jaskier and the rest of their pack. As if Jaskier would ever dare to harm any of them.

"Geralt, dear. Everything is alright. Please it's just a portal. From Triss. You know, we trust Triss."

He shuffled forward a few inches, but the only thing that got him was a further retreating pack and Eskel plastering himself to Geralts side, ducking his head to shield the White Wolfs throat.

"Triss?" Jaskier said, bile rising in his throat. "This doesn't look like normal dislike to me."

"Agreed. Maybe their instincts have taken over? They seem to be more driven by their wolfish side from time to time. Show them the portal is harmless, that could help." 

Jaskier nodded and stepped away from his cowering friends. He had never travelled via portal before and couldn't really imagine why exactly Geralt would dislike this very efficient way of getting from point A to point B.

"See?" he murmured in a soothing tone and stretched out his hand towards the magic ring. "Just some cool magic trick. Nothing to hurt- ACK!"

Jaskier pulled his hand back with another wince, cradling the injured limb to his chest. "Oww. Okay I see what concerns you now."

With a flourish of her hand Triss collapsed the portal. "Guess they knew more than we did."

"Hm... So no portal." Jaskier slowly crouched down and let Geralt lick at the reddened skin of his fingertips. Thankfully the damage wasn't bad. Touching the portal had been akin to briefly touching a hot kettle.

"No portal."

"So we'll have to walk." At least he hoped they could. If the Fae meant "Run on home" in a literal sense Jaskier might well die trying.

A tired sigh escaped him. This was turning into more and more of a clusterfuck. Eskel and Lambert gave a series of high, short whines, tails slowly starting to wag again. Well at least some people were excited about the oncoming journey.

_Jaskier_ didn't like the prospect of it. He had never braved the hike up the Blue Mountains and for good reason. Geralt had told him about the Killer and about the deaths of trainees and young Witchers alike. Still he wouldn't leave his pack to run along on their own. They might be strong and clever and absolutely marvelous, but they lacked opposable thumbs to treat injuries, functioning vocal chords to talk themselves out of tight spots and armour to keep them save from confused arrows flying in their direction.

~~~

They decided to use the day to prepare for the journey ahead. Triss wouldn't let him leave with at least a few potions just in case and together they planned out the optimal, safest route for them to go. Unfortunately safest didn't also mean fastest. They would be staying far away from the big cities and travel the lesser known roads, so the wolves could stay close to Jaskier.

There would be a lot of camping in the wilderness, something Jaskier didn't look forward to at all.  
They only planned a night in Ard Carraigh. The town was used to all sorts of strange things because of the location so close to a Witchers keep. Smuggling a pack of wolf turned Witchers through there would be risky, but manageable.

After coaxing another bath out of Triss and going through another long explanation of what the various potions and bombs did (Triss was really thinking about Jaskiers safety here), Jaskier set out into town with his pack in tow.

The plan had been to get Roach and Scorpion geared up and ready before hitting the road for good. In Jaskiers mind this would have been a quick task to complete, but he hadn't accounted for the overeager townsfolk that set upon him.

It seemed like Jaskier and his wolves had become local folkheroes overnight. And while Murivel wasn't exactly what one would call rich, it desperately wanted to thank the ones who put a stop to their suffering. Again and again adults and children limped up to them to give them gifts. Flowercrowns, freshly baked goods, dried up fruit and meat for the journey ahead and dozens more little trinkets that were getting hard to carry.

The children especially were fascinated by the wolves. The daring ones ran up to them, small hands reaching out to pet their saviours. Jaskier could see some adultes twitching to touch them, too. But one apologizing mother explained that they still very much knew that these were Witchers and didn't want to disrespect them by coddling them like pets.

Of course the little ones didn't much care and no one quite had the heart to hold them back. They threw themselves at the cursed Witchers with squeals and laughter, unafraid of the imposing figures, sharp teeth and – in Lamberts case – warning snarls.

A very brave girl, that couldn't be much older than five even clambered on Eskels back, much to the horror of everyone witnessing it. Her father had come running immediately, but she refused to be lifted from her new friend, whining, wailing and downright shrieking when anyone tried.

Poor Eskel, Jaskier thought, wincing as the child let out another, high pitched squeal. He had definitely earned himself a proper ear massage and a hearty treat after this.

The girl only jumped off Eskel when Jaskier came back out of the stable, guiding both Roach and Scorpion out. The two horses probably made for quite the impressive sight, loaded up with the gear of three Witchers. They were both twitchy, wary of the excited crowd, stomping hoofs and snorting to intimidate the people into backing off.

And still the girl insisted on hugging everyone goodbye, naming them as she went.

Eskel was the first, naturally. She clung to his neck and pressed her nose into his thick fur. "Goodbye Fluffy."

Next came Lambert, who had been making the wolfish equivalent of laughing until that point. When the little ones eyes fell on him and she advanced he shut up fast and retreated, tail tugged between his legs, caught between a snarl and a whimper. He didn't back off far, though, obviously deciding that getting it over with was the least likely to bruise his ego.

He stood as still as a statue while the girl tried to get her short arms around his torso. "Bye grumpy puppy."

Now it was Jaskiers turn to bite his cheek to keep from giggling. Oh, how he wished he had something to freeze this moment and put it in is pocket, to pull out whenever he needed a bit of a pick me up.

Geralt was the last of the Witchers to be given the honors. He bowed his head to press it gently against her while eager arms came up to wrap themselves around his face in what looked like a quite uncomfortable hug.

"See you around, Snowball."

Jaskier couldn't help the snort that left him at that. "Snowball?"

The girl nodded. "Cause he's white and fluffy like my pet rabbit. Snowball."

"Ahh yes I see now. A perfect choice." Jaskier chuckled, obediently bending down to accept his own hug.

"You keep them safe, yes?" she whispered into his shoulder.

"I will."

With a determined nod she shuffled back towards her smiling father and waved them good bye one last time.

"Soooo~ Fluffy, Puppy and Snowball, huh. Well there have been worse codenames. And they do suit you so well." Jaskier babbled, half laughing as they stepped out of Murivel and back into the wilderness.

Two growls warned him to shut up, one from Lambert and one from Geralt. Eskel, to Jaskiers utter surprise and delight, puffed out his chest and traipsed up to him, snout tilted towards the sky in a show of pride.

"See? Eskel gets it. And don't pretend you two didn't like it. I saw your tails wags, you can't fool me."

Roach let out a cackling whinny in agreement and bumped her head into Geralts side, who had came up to snap at the reins that Jaskier held firmly in his grasp. The force of the affectionate nudge nearly send him tumbling to the ground, but that didn't discourage him. Eventually Jaskier yielded and carefully placed the leather strap between Geralts teeth.

Eskel shook himself with a snort when Jaskier offered up Scorpions leash and bounded off ahead, Lambert hot on his heels.

And so they went into the wild, adventure and probably a whole lot of danger waiting for them on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for the child scene came from @selectivegeekwithstandards, who nominated Lambert for the pet name "Puppy" and I just... my imagination immediately wondered, okay if Lambert is Puppy, what would the other two be called? XD
> 
> Anyway I hope you liked his short intermission chapter, further bonding and trouble incoming~


	6. Chapter 6

The first night outside after having slept in a comfy bed for the last week and a half was unpleasant. Getting used to the freedom, openness and harshness of the wild always was. The human mind didn't like change much, so venturing out again was always equal parts thrilling and terrifying. Robbed of safety and the known, but gaining enough space to finally stretch his metaphorical wings again. Jaskier was used to feeling torn about it.

Having three beautiful canine specimen to take care of helped, though. Jaskier made good on his promise to pamper Eskel for his magnificant show of endurance and patience after dinner, tugging the squirming wolf into his lap and massaging his ears until Eskel was putty in his hands. All the while he whispered praises to all three of them, occasionally nuzzling Geralts head whenever he got close or shoving Lambert away when he wanted to disrupt Eskels calm.

Sadly Jaskier didn't get to cuddle up with all of them for the night anymore. Eskel and Lambert laid down at the edges of the camp, awake and alert, while Geralt lay down beside him to shield him from the wind. It was practical, like all things were supposed to be when you were running around in the open.

Jaskier hated it.

But it was a small price to pay. His pack hadn't been able to relax much inside of Triss' tower. They had been as anxious as he had been, the looming confrontation with the Fae always at the forefront of their mind. And they hadn't had much space to run around and get rid of their excess energy. As a result fights – however small – had broken out constantly and even Jaskier had come out with a few bruises whenever one of them had greeted him with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Now they had all the room they needed to run around and were much less cranky, which meant that Jaskier got away with more things, too. Like hoisting them up on his hip so they got to slobber all over him. Or working on songs that were probably best suited for children, tooth rottingly sweet as the lyrics were. (Always featuring his sweet wolves, of course)

Jaskier alternated between leading Scorpion and Roach for a while. Oftentimes Geralt wanted to be close to his mare. He even seemed to chatter at her occasionally. Which made Jaskier wonder if they could understand each other.

Eskel didn't take Scorpions reins much. He much rather played tag with Lambert, probably making sure the youngest of the three was thoroughly exhausted when the day ended.

Still Jaskier didn't think anything about it when one day Eskel nudged at his hand and carefully gnawed at the leather strip. Allowing himself to stroke along Eskels head he gave Scorpion over and pulled his lute in front of him instead.

He only managed to start tuning his beloved instrument, when he felt another nudge at his leg. Looking down Eskel stared up at him with an insistent whine.

Confused Jaskier halted in his steps and furrowed his brow. "Yes Eskel? Did you change your mind already?"

Eskel sneezed and pulled at the reins so that Scorpion had to step closer, his flank now nearly pressing into Jaskiers chest.

"You... want me to ride him?"

Seeing a wolf nod at him would always be strange, but that was certainly what Eskel was doing. And look, Jaskier didn't think he could have loved these men any more, but being offered to ride a Witchers horse? If Eskel was as protective of Scorpion as Geralt was of Roach then this was a huge show of trust and an honour Jaskier wouldn't take lightly.

"Thank you."

Tentatively Jaskier put his hands on Scorpions flank, fingers gliding up towards the saddle. He lifted one foot to hoist himself up- and let out a yell when a blurr of white rammed into him and bodychecked him away from the stallion.

It was a testament to how used to the wolves antics Jaskier had become that he didn't immediately fall over. That and the grip he had already had on the horse saved him and his lute from a meeting with the ground.

"Geralt! What's wrong now?" Jaskier sputtered, barely getting the words out as Geralt had only waited a brief moment before dragging him away with low growls.

He only stopped to nudge Jaskier towards Roach, then sat and stared him down with a huff.

"You want me to ride Roach instead?"

An affirmative bark.

Jaskiers eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "You want me to ride Roach."

That got him an impatient growl and another shove. Roach decided this was the perfect moment to make her opinion known. With a neigh that had no business sounding as annoyed as it did she looked back at them and pulled on Jaskiers hair.

Jaskier didn't need to know animal speak to know what that meant: _Get on with it already._

"Okay, okay, I'll ride Roach. Terribly sorry Scorpion, please don't take it personally, but as you can see I haven't been left with a choice."

Scorpion seemed to bow his head at him as if to say _I get it, no hard feelings_. Damn maybe he was spending too much time around animals.

Eskel snorted when Jaskier finally settled on the back of Geralts trusty mare. Geralt snarled at him in turn and snatched the reins out of Jaskiers hands as soon as he tried to take them. Eskel just rolled his eyes at him, or at least that's what Jaskier thought the weird head roll meant, tugging Scorpion along as they started walking again. Lambert, who had been standing a ways ahead and had watched the whole exchange from a safe distance looked like he was judging all of them. Hard.

From that point onward Jaskier rode more often than he walked, which was a blessing and a curse. Riding, it turned out, could become a right pain in the ass as well if you did it the whole day. Literally.

Other routines soon fell into place, too, until every day pretty much felt like the one before. They walked with occasional breaks until it was getting dark, Geralt, Eskel or Lambert would scout out a good place to stay for the night and then they would go hunt while Jaskier set up camp. After dinner, which Jaskier always took care to devide equally among them and yet still turned into a fight every time, Jaskier would play his lute and sing while the other three tried to howl over his melodies.

He wasn't entirely sure if they did that to dissuade him from playing, or if they genuinely wanted to sing along. With Geralt and Lambert he was pretty sure it was the latter, with Eskel it might have been the former.

Of course the quiet couldn't have lasted forever. They were a week into their adventure when the breaks in their defenses became obvious.

Jaskier had been fumbling around with the fire when it happened. A light drizzle had accompanied them the whole day, the forest they were walking through damp and the wood even wetter. They had decided to settle in an abandoned cave as the light rain turned into a storm. It was barely big enough to host all of them, but it had been the only shelter they had been able to find on such short notice.

The smoke the damp wood emitted made Jaskiers eyes water and the barely there glow had soured his mood considerably. His Witchers might have been fine with raw meat, but Jaskier sure as hell wasn't. He was also soaked to the bone. A bit of heat would have been quite welcome at that point. Especially because he couldn't just grap one of the walking furnaces that accompanied him.

His pack was out hunting, of course, and had been away for longer than usual. Jaskier knew that the rain dispersed the scents, which made tracking game difficult. And most likely a lot of animals had gone to seek shelter for themselves.

It was a devilish combination of things that led to Jaskiers misfortune. The howling wind and patter of rain together with Jaskiers continued cursing had overridden the footsteps of the strangers. And Jaskier had been so consumed by his task that only Roachs loud neigh alerted him to the new arrivals.

By then it was already too late and the tip of a sword greeted him when he looked up.

"Uh hello fellas, I'm sorry but this cave is already taken."

There were three of them, all men with ragged clothes and barely any meat to their bones. Jaskier could have taken at least two of them on, but not three and not with a sword already at his throat.

"The cave won't be the only thing we'll be taking!" the one with the sword yelled to be heard over the storm.

The other two shuffled into the enclosed space and started to rummage through his stuff. They stayed well away from Roach and Scorpion as the two teamed up to bite and kick at anyone who dared to get close.

"He got weapons with 'im, Edvin!"

"Those are Witcher weapons." the other one confirmed. Jaskier couldn't tell which, because he didn't dare take his eyes off the one in front of him.

Jaskier shifted a bit so the tip of the sword didn't poke him as much. He hoped beyond hope that the sight of the Witcher gear would dissuade them from doing anything stupid. He did have one of the bombs close, but setting one off in a cave would have disastrous effects.

"Ballsy of you to steal from Witchers." Edvin mused.

"I didn't. I'm travelling with them. And they will be very pissed when they find you here, threatening their friend."

Edvin spit at his feet, directly into the fireplace that by now had gone out. "Bullshit. Witchers don't make friends. Have no emotion, the lot of them. I'd wager they wouldn't leave without their weapons either."

Keep calm, buy some more time. If they're busy talking they won't be doing anything more harmful. "They're out hunting. You don't need two swords for that. And we didn't expect any visitors in this dreadful weather."

Edvin gifted him with a nasty grin showing a row of yellowed, crooked teeth. "Your luck we stumbled on you."

"Yes very much so."

There was a shout of joy when one of them found his stash of dried fruits. Really if they had only asked nicely Jaskier would have maybe been willing to share. These guys were pretty much close to starvation.

"How about we settle this non-violently, yes? I can try to start a fire again, we can sit down and share some food and I'll even play a jolly tune. And in the morning we all go our seperate ways."

Edvins face turned contemplative and the noise the others had made died down, too. Jaskier tried to stand and back away from the sword now that they had seemingly all calmed down. It was the wrong move to make. In a flurry of motion that Jaskier couldn't quite comprehend they pounced on him.

A searing pain shot through his back and skull as he got shoved into the uneven cave wall, hitting his head on one of the protruding rocks. Edvin surged forward as everyon settled. Two of the men held Jaskier to the cold, damp wall now and Edvin pressed the edge of his sword to his neck with a growl.

"Don't you dare move!" he hissed.

"Alright. Sorry, sorry. Not gonna happen again."

"It sure won't."

The rustle in the bushes surrounding the cave was barely audible, but Jaskier was attuned to his wolves by now. He kept himself from breathing a sigh of relief. He wasn't in the clear yet.

"Come now. I'm only a bard and you are three. All the weapons are on the horses, not that I could wield them. You have nothing to fear from me. Please just get that sword off my neck. There's some rope in the saddle bags, you can bind me with those if you would feel less threatened by me that way."

The one on the right muttered "Not scared of you, twig." as the sword near Jaskiers throat began to shake. Finally, after a very uncomfortable staring contest, Edvin stepped back and went to look for the rope. His loss.

With a terrifying howl Jaskiers pack attacked. Geralt was the first to jump out of his hiding spot and onto the biggest threat. Edvin didn't even have time to scream before teeth clamped down and tore his throat out.

Jaskier let himself fall as his two captors panicked, taking them by surprise and slipping out of their grasp. He scurried away to make room for Eskel and Lambert, who made quick work of the last two.

Loud panting and the occasional shuffle from the horses mixed with the rain and thunder outside. Jaskier stayed on the ground where he had landed, carefully gliding his fingers over the back of his head to search for any injuries. He was a little light headed and his back was surely bruised, but his hand came away blood free so at least he was fine in that regard.

Lambert came to him and sniffed him up and down, while the other two dragged the corpses out of the cave. They were gone for a while, probably searching the perimeter to make sure these guys didn't have back up somewhere. In the meantime Jaskier managed to coax Lambert into lying in his lap. He desperately needed the comfort even if all his wolves were smelling worse than sewage and were covered in blood.

He did his best to comb through Lamberts fur, gently massaging the visible scars despite the flinches and little growls it got him. The youngest wolf was the hardest to persuade into a cuddle session, so he would damn well enjoy it while it lasted.

Sleep had nearly caught up to him when the others returned, having swapped out the corpses with a deer. Jaskier didn't want to think about the blood of both mixing. He wasn't hungry anymore, anyway. But his wolves were looking at him expectantly and he couldn't let them down.

With a heavy heart he nudged Lambert off of him and went to start the fire again. The night dragged on like that, preparing the venison and the effort to chew even a bit of it when it was done sapping all his remaining strength.

He felt a bit queasy about sleeping in close proximity to the dead people, the danger of necrophages being attracted by them a constant nagging thought in his mind. Geralt laid down behind him so the whole length of their bodies were touching. And despite the horrible stench and the wetness seeping into his shirt at his back the weight comforted him enough to slip into an uneasy sleep.

They didn't leave him alone at camp after that. One close miss had been enough. Jaskier would have protested, but having one of the wolves to chatter at and to pet while he set up camp was comforting. Usually it was Lambert who begrudgingly stayed behind. And whenever he got too restless Eskel switched places with him.

It was a nice change, one he thought was worth almost dying over. Now if they could only find a big enough water source to wash in that would be wonderful. His pack was starting to stink up to the high heavens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while longer to write than I had anticipated. I've been pretty stressed out and anxious these days so my creativity kinda went down the drain.  
> I don't have as many notes on this one as I have on "Ghost of the Keep" so "Herding Wolves" is a bit harder to write when in a slump.
> 
> Anyway @DarkInuFan has brought to my attention that with two horses Jaskier should be allowed to ride one and that Eskel would probably offer first until Geralt got jealous and insisted on riding Roach. And I loved the idea, so I wrote that scene in.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I got distracted by tumblr (you can find me under seralyra) and buzzfeed unsolved videos.

Whichever god was responsible for the weather Jaskier was sure it had decided to fuck with them. The clouds that had brought nothing but rain and cold yesterday had opened up overnight. But instead of it being a nice, sunny if a bit chilly day Jaskier felt like he was being roasted alive. The air was thick and still smelled oppressingly damp. And the canopy above them could only partly shield them from the sun that seemed to be determined to grill them.

Jaskier was walking, although he was leaning more on Scorpion than actually pulling his own weight. He just didn't trust himself to sit on a horse without falling asleep or fainting from the heat. This was bullshit. It was spring! Spring had no business being so warm.

"No Geralt leave off." Jaskier huffed the sixth time that day and shoved the whining bundle of fur away from him.

He had refused to touch any of them much after waking up with bloodstains on his doublet where Geralt had pressed up on him all night. They had all reached a sort of filthy that Jaskier wouldn't tolerate anymore.

His pack had not been happy with him when they had noticed his sudden no-petting agenda and had been trying to sneak up on him to get at least a bit of affection from him. And it was cute. Of course it was cute. And Jaskier would have happily showered them with love had it not been for the obvious, stomach curling, eye watering _stench_. Even a humble bard such as himself had limits.

A chorus of whines answered his rebuffal, and not the happy kind. Really it was getting ridiculous. Usually it was Jaskier who just randomly grabbed one of the wolves when they got too close and he wasn't sitting on a horse. He would be locked in a playful struggle and only then did they usually accept his pets. Now he was letting them zoom in and out of his line of sight as they pleased without stopping them and _now_ they suddenly decided they wanted cuddles?

Well he guessed it was about the freedom of choice. Maybe. Or they were just being dicks.

Jaskier stumbled and nearly face planted into the ground when Lambert suddenly jumped onto his back from behind. It was a near miss this time. The weight of the wolf had him doubling over and he had to catch himself with his hands. Which. Owww. His poor wrists. Thank the gods he had fastened his lute onto Roachs saddle.

"Lambert! Off! Urgh!" Jaskier grimaced as a wet tongue was dragged along his cheek up to the roots of his hair. Yeah they were definitely being dicks.

Geralt and Eskel bounded over to drag their youngest brother away from him. At this point Jaskier just let himself scoot down all the way to the ground and folded his arms underneath his chin. It should have been terrifying, three huge, grown ass wolves snarling and biting at each other right on top of him. But Jaskier couldn't really muster up the strength for anything more than mild annoyance.

An emotion which he must have shared with Roach and Scorpion. The two horses had put a bit of distance between them and the fighting pack and were grazing on the few tuffs of grass available on the side of the road. They were watching them with their ears pinned back, tails flickering in irritation.

Eventually the ball of fur, muscle and teeth untangled itself and morphed back into three seperate, very unhappy wolves. Jaskier already felt a few more bruises blooming on his back, where paws had stepped on him. He ignored them as he slowly stood, a scowl deeply etched onto his face.

"You done being pricks now? If you want me to pet you again why don't you use your fabulous noses and look for a lake or something?"

It was as if he had uttered an age old incantation. One that dispersed cursed Witchers. Maybe he should have said something like that hours ago.

Jaskier stretched and groaned as several pops rang out while his spine realigned into something resembling healthy. Fuck, Lambert might have busted his back with that move. At least he was left alone to sort his body out. His pack was now focussed on finding water and it was hilarious to see all of them sniffing the air and the ground with such intent.

Jaskier relished in the peaceful walk that followed, humming a cheerful tune that didn't have lyrics yet. That is until Eskel perked up and howled, sprinting off into the underbrush, the other two racing after him.

For a moment Jaskier froze up and blinked, debating if he should follow or not. He shook his head in the end. No. They always ran off one way or another, when they found something interesting. They'd come back when they were done.

Tugging at the two reins of Scorpion and Roach, easily the two best behaved in the group after Eskel, he continued on his way. They had been a bit... tardy with their pace so far, Jaskier suddenly realized.

With all the fooling around and frequent stops, together with the occasional detours, they hadn't made it as far as they could have.

Jaskier didn't know how to feel about that. On one hand he liked being able to be so affectionate with all of them. Wolves were great cuddlers if they didn't want to maul you. But on the other... Jaskier really fucking missed Geralt. And he was itching to truly meet Eskel and Lambert...

Roach and Scorpion suddenly stopping and pulling him along was the only thing that saved him from being pounced (again) by an overexcited, overgrown puppy. Geralts dirty maw snatched at his doublet, dangerously close to Jaskiers sensitive bits. His tail was wagging a mile a minute and he was letting out a series of small, eager growls.

Eskel and Lambert weren't far behind, easily taking over the reins when Jaskier let them fall in order to more quickly follow his favourite Witcher. Oh Geralt would owe him so many new doublets by the time this was over.

Jaskier didn't have much time to complain about the rough treatment and the dirt getting everywhere before he was shoved into a clearing. And by then any protests had died on his tongue.

Given the dizzying heat on his back and the horrible luck yesterday the pristine lake in front of him felt like a miracle. All thoughts of taking up a swifter pace gone, Jaskier didn't need any more encouragement from his wolves to jump into the cool water, clothes and all.

A happy groan escaped him. This was heaven. He'd be happy to stay here. Maybe build a little hut with a garden. Just him and his pack. He'd be bored out of his mind in weeks, but the thought was still a nice one after so long on the road.

It was only when Jaskier had settled that Geralt joined him in the water, running through the shallow shore until he had to swim. Jaskier let himself soak and watch. Eskel had followed Geralt immediately and instead of coming over to Jaskier they engaged in a sort of contest on how fast they could swim from one end of the lake to the other.

Lambert still stood on the shore, barely getting his paws wet, close to Roach and Scorpion, who eagerly drank from the water source. He nosed at the liquid a few times, lapping at it half- heartedly and seemed overall unsure about what he was supposed to be doing now.

Jaskier frowned as he watched him. Poor thing was probably overheating with his thick, black fur. Well his clothes were starting to get uncomfortable, clinging to his skin like that and Geralt and Eskel were pretty preoccupied at the moment anyway. Might as well start washing Lambert first.

He gave an involuntary shiver as he stepped out of the lake and eagerly pulled off his clothes. He spread them out on a nearby rock to dry before walking over to Roach and Scorpion to get into the saddlebags.

Lambert let out a low whine when he drew near, ears suddenly pressed back and tail between his legs. Soap forgotten Jaskier was at his side in seconds, hands fluttering over Lamberts body to check for injuries.

"Oh dear! What's wrong?"

A cold, wet nose tapped at his collarbone, which was followed by a tiny lick. Lambert repeated the motion somewhere over his ribs and slowly Lamberts source of distress dawned on Jaskier.

His body was covered in bruises, dark ugly things that probably looked far worse than they actually were. Jaskier hadn't given them much thought, he bruised easily and a few "battle wounds" were normal in his mind when dealing with three huge wolves hellbent on including him in their rough housing.

"Awww Puppy don't worry, I'm fine." he laughed ruffling the now growling wolfs fur and slinging his arms tight around his neck when Lambert started to try and get away. "Although, if you want to make up for it you could stay still while I'm going to wash you."

Jaskier was pretty sure wolves shouldn't be able yowl, but that was certainly the sound Lambert let loose right before he struggled out of Jaskiers hold and darted off into the deeper ends of the lake.

A world weary sigh left Jaskiers lips as he stood. Why had he ever thought his pack would make this easy for him?

Thankfully Jaskier grew up on the coast. He might have been a bit out of practice but his body knew how to move through water. A paddeling Witcher wolf, who didn't quite know yet how to coordinate his limbs right was no match for him. Fast as a mermaid smelling fresh blood Jaskier was upon Lambert, hands grabbing onto long wet fur to pull him against Jaskiers chest.

This was a bad idea, because now he had a kicking, howling, several pounds heavy wolf in his arms and only his legs to keep him afloat.

Drawn to the commotion Geralt and Eskel swam over and for once decided Lamberts cause was just. None of them dared to use their teeth on him now that he was naked, but being swarmed from both sides and kicked in the flanks by scraping paws was enough of a distraction for Lambert to pull loose.

"You three are insufferable!" Jaskier shouted, laughing and panting as he tried to grab at Geralt instead.

The bastard dove under his arms and sent a spray of water in Jaskiers face as he kicked away from him. Eskel had already swam a respectable distance away, eyes positively gleaming with mirth.

"Eskel, darling~" Jaskier cooed inching towards him. Eskel retreated further with a happy bark. "Won't you behave at least? Be the mature one?"

Jaskier bit down on the _Be a good boy_ that wanted to slip out. He might have overstepped some lines already, but even he knew that this one would be too much.

"Come you must hate your own smell by now, with your sensitive nose and all."

He kept crooning sugar coated words at Eskel, to no avail. Eskel always kept right out of his reach, happily barking at him in answer. Jaskiers muscles were beginning to strain eventually. Fine then he would set an example first and wash himself.

The ground beneath his bare feet was littered with dozens of tiny stones that pricked uncomfortably into Jaskiers soles. He hurried to get all his supplies and hopped back to the part of the lake where stone turned into mud. The cool water lapped at his waist as he worked up a lather and started the process of scrubbing himself clean.

Arms and chest first, working up and then down. He leaned against a natural rock formation close by, when he got to his poor abused feet and then promptly dived under to get his hair wet again, working in the soap with rhythmic motions. Jaskier closed his eyes and started to hum. There was no concept of time anymore. Not here in this little sanctuary. Just the splashes, barks and happy whines of his companions and the steady caw, caw of the crows.

He was so engrossed in his task that he didn't notice Eskel swimming over until he felt his fur brush up on his side. With a squeak he jumped away from the source of contact and whirled around to the wolf. Eskel only took a brief moment to snort at him before scrambling up onto the rock, where he promptly flopped down.

Big, yellow eyes looked up at him expectantly and Jaskier raised an eyebrow. "Ohhh? Finally ready to get clean?"

The snuffle that was meant to be his reply melted his heart. Oh fuck no way was he able to play mad any longer.

"Alright then. Be a dear and hold still."

Hold still. Of course. He could have tried to convince a group of ghouls to only eat vegetables instead. The probability of that actually working would have been higher.

In Eskels defense, he really did try to keep still, but as soon as Jaskiers hands massaged the soap into his soggy fur he got excited and started squirming. Maybe it was the foreign smell that clung to him now and made him restless. Or he just enjoyed Jaskiers ministrations. He did try to get closer, standing up to press his whole weight into Jaskiers chest.

Thankfully he refrained from licking his face. While Jaskier found the sentiment behind the action adorable it was also very, very gross. Eskel snuffled into the crook of his neck instead, tail wagging and high growls and whines leaving his muzzle.

Jaskier had to use considerable force to put a little distance between them so that he could effectively wash the last remains of the blood from Eskels snout. Using a piece of cloth without any soap on it, of course. He didn't want to torture the poor thing.

A rather unmanly shriek tore from his throat a second time that day as something nibbed at his ass. Bending his neck so he could look behind him he saw Geralt, head just raising up out of the water to bark at him.

"Geralt! You know there are more polite ways to ask for your turn." Jaskier whined, caught between amusement and being horrified. Never had the difference between wolf Geralt and human(ish) Geralt been so prominent.

Eskel used the opportunity to press closer again, resting his throat on Jaskiers shoulder, head nuzzling into the dip between his shoulder blades. Jaskier couldn't see much from his vantage point, but he could guess from the growling and snarling on Geralts part that they were having some sort of staring contest.

"Now, now calm down you two. Eskel could you be so sweet and wait by Roach and Scorpion a bit? I'll brush you down in a second. Geralt hop on up."

Only one of them actually followed his orders. As usual. Eskel obediently made place for Geralt on the rock and swam over to the two horses, rolling around the shallow waters for a bit before coming to a halt laying on his back, all four paws stretched from his body as far as they could go.

Geralt, however, had no intention of taking Eskels place. Instead he crowded the bard into the rock and nestled himself firmly between Jaskiers tighs.

Jaskier huffed out a laugh and gently stroked through the matted fur of the head that was nuzzling his chest. He maybe took a bit longer in soaping up Geralt, but who could blame him? He was his favourite Witcher after all.

Once he was done he sat up straight and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. The sun was beating down on him without mercy and maybe he was starting to get a bit dizzy again.

"Lambert! Your turn!"

His shout was met with a distant bark and Jaskier squinted against the bright light to see him on the other side of the lake.

"Lambert! Come here!"

The only answer he got was a splash. The youngest wolf refused to come over, though. Geralt started to howl beside him, deep and insistent. Attracted by the noise Eskel swam back over and after a brief moment of confusion joined in.

A lone howl came from the far side of the lake. And still Lambert stayed where he was. Sighing Jaskier rubbed the necks of his two companions. Silencing them with his gentle ministrations.

He pressed his hands into their thick hide a bit. "Go get him."

Geralt and Eskel were off like a shooting star. Lambert barely had time to yelp in surprise before his brothers were upon him. Jaskier watched them fight it out from afar, dipping back into the water to cool himself down a bit. Eventually Geralt and Eskel dragged a defeated Lambert back to him and Jaskier gathered the dejected wolf up into his arms with a smile.

"Ohh don't sulk. You had it coming little one~"

Thankfully the whole debacle had tired his pack out enough that Jaskier had no problems brushing all of them down. Soon they all stretched out on the soft grass near the waters edge and let the sun dry them.

Eyes blinking back open Jaskier realized that he must have dozed a bit. The sun had wandered quite a bit since he had last closed his eyes and his pack had become restless again.

How he wished to stay here for a bit longer. But with his consciousness also came back the urgency. They had dwadled around for long enough. It was time to move on.

His friends watched him with their ears perked up as he started to gather their things and get dressed. Only when he had Roachs and Scorpions reins firmly in his grip did his pack join him.

Geralt was leading the group again, his nose firmly pressed into the ground. Jaskier could have taken over of course, they had gone in a straight line from the road to the lake. There wasn't much opportunity to get the way back wrong.

And yet...

Jaskiers eyebrows squished together as time went on. Sure they were walking at a slower pace than before, but they should have been back on the road by now.

His wolves were getting restless as well. Hackles raised they stalked in circles around him and sniffed the air. Roach and Scorpion, too became nervous as more and more time went on and the terrain got harder to traverse. Scorpion especially, not yet as experienced as Geralts good mare, nickered and tugged at his rein in ever shortening intervalls. Roach tried to snap at the black stallion only succeeding in nearly headbutting Jaskier.

The branches above them seemed to knit themselves together and the steady caw of the crows had turned from being a mere background noise to a foreboding, monotonous chorus.

Jaskier swallowed down his nervousness. He suddenly felt watched, paranoid.

Had the trees stood this close to each other before?

Had there always been so many roots to trip over?

Jaskier cursed himself for having no hands free. All his attention was on the horses, trying to keep them as calm as possible so they wouldn't bolt and accidently hurt him. He really should have watched his pack more.

A sharp bark made him stutter to a halt. His head turned to the source of the sound, but the only thing he saw was a smudge of white as Geralt bolted off into the underbrush. Eskel and Lambert were already gone. How had they disappeared so fast?!

"Wait!"

He stumbled forward, hands letting go of the reins to try and sprint after his wolves. He didn't get far.

The forest must have been working against him. Barely a few steps in and the underbrush got so dense that he was hardly able to walk without something getting in his way, let alone run.

"Geralt! Come back here!"

He stood and waited, heart pounding in his chest, hands clammy with sweat that for once didn't come from the heat. The woods were deadly silent. Even the crows had stopped their mocking concert.

"Eskel? Lambert?"

Nothing. Not a sign. Dread sunk into his stomach like lead, eyes racing over every surface to try and see where his pack might have gone. Ears straining to catch anything, any sound at all.

Something must have set them off. He reasoned. Maybe he should go back to Roach and Scorpion, wait until they were done with their wolf business. Jaskier nodded to himself. Yes, that sounded like the most reasonable thing to do. It had worked before. It would work now.

Carefully he backtracked to where he had left the two horses, making a small noise of relief when he found them again, irritated and twitchy, but still _there_.

Good. This was good. Now all he had to do was wait. Easy.

A slight tremor went through the earth beneath his feet. Something moved just at the edge of his vision. Turning fast he caught another glimpse. It was huge, much bigger than Jaskier.

And it had antlers.

The creature, as if noticing that it had been caught, emerged from the shadows to show itself in all its glory.

Bark for skin and a deer skull for a head. Torn, moldy cloth was wrapped around its waist and chest in a mockery of decency. Lanky arms with huge claw like hands at the end brushed the quivering trees as it passed them by.

Hollow eyes were fixed on him.

Slowly, menacingly it was stalking towards him.

Jaskier took a shaky breath.

Well fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I spend nearly the whole chapter on the bathing scene? Yes. Yes I did. I needed the fluff. (Sorry if it got a bit boring)  
> I actually thought about Eskel heating the water up with Igni, by shooting a flame out of his snout, to the shock of everyone. But then I remembered that I started the chapter with it being hot and it didn't make much sense so I left it.
> 
> Anyway yay for some semi plot related action at the end there~


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slowly working myself through the comments. I'm trying XD

The barky deer-man thingy halted only a few meters away from him to bend down. Jaskiers stomach dropped at the movement, some ancient instinct telling him this was not a good thing. He fingered out one of the little round objects from his pouch, thankful that he had still been paranoid enough to always carry Triss' collection of self defense items with him.

He only spared a brief glance at what he had grabbed, before clicking open the small glass container and throwing it at the creature. It was a lucky throw. The vial hit the monster directly between the eyes as it shattered. An explosion of ice followed just as thick roots broke out of the ground and launched in Jaskiers direction.

The horses behind him were reeling, Jaskier actually having to jump forward into the path of the roots to avoid being trampled by his panicked companions. The ice raced along the wooden weapons, faster than they could move towards their target.

Jaskiers heart stopped as he stood, the ice at last enveloping the sharpened tips of the roots, forcing them to stop mere inches away from his chest. He staggered back, the cloud of panic lifting just enough to take in his surroundings again.

The trees had seemingly shuffled further apart to give Roach and Scorpion space to run. The creature was still, frozen in an uncomfortable looking pose, half kneeling, half standing, with its lanky arms buried into the earth.

The ice was already cracking.

"Fuck!"

Jaskier didn't think about trying to finish the monster off. He bolted from the sight, in the direction Roach and Scorpion disappeared to. Despite the trees having moved to give him some space it was still no walk in the park to run through a forest.

Panic made him near blind and the way he barreled through the underbrush didn't help his eyes to adjust. Green and brown blurred together into vague blotches of colour, that were neigh impossible to navigate. The forest worked against him. Roots and stones shot out of the ground to trip him, branches strained towards him to hold him back.

At this point he didn't know if he was just being clumsy or if it was the creature controlling the plants around him. Fact was that he had to stop eventually. His lungs were burning, sweat and dirt ruining his past efforts to get clean. He was feeling woozy, overheated and shaky from the slowly fading adrenalin.

It was no conscious decision to stop where he did. He just kinda smacked into a tree and his arms came up to hug it for support without his say so. He breathed heavily into the bark and hoped that the trees branches didn't come down to wrap around him.

The thought was horrifying enough to make him let go. Stepping back he took in his new surroundings, which looked pretty much like his previous surroundings. A whole lot of trees and bushes, a moss and pine needle covered ground.

Jaskier had no idea how far he had run, so he strained his ears and tried to listen for movement, a rustle or the caws of the crows or maybe even a whinny from Roach or Scorpion. What he'd give to hear the howls of his pack.

None of that came to him. The woods around him were silent. Deathly so. Not out of the danger then. And there was no use in staying still now that he had left his original post. He had to keep moving, had to find the horses and the wolves, better sooner than later.

Alright if he were a horse, where would he had gone to hide? Roach had usually just galloped out of the immediate danger before she stopped and waited for her master to call her back. And Jaskier had run in their direction for at least a bit. So maybe she was still in hearing distance.

A nervous glance around told him that nothing was creeping up on him yet, so he pushed his luck.  
The whistle was sharp and loud. It echoed between the trees for a bit before fading off. Nothing followed.

His shoulders slumped at the realization that he had not only lost his pack, but also Roach and Scorpion. The two beings, who not only would have been able to carry him out of danger given they could find a clear path, but who also carried all their provisions and the Witchers weapons.  
Jaskier really hoped these two at least stayed together. He didn't want to leave either of them behind.

"Okay. Come on, don't panic. Geralt showed you how to track game once. You can do it." he muttered to himself as he crouched down to watch for hints.

What he found were a bunch of edible mushrooms and a berry bush, not at all what he had been looking for but not the worst thing to have found either. He was starving after all that exercise, anyway.

There were some traces that could have been made by some kind of larger creature, although Jaskier couldn't make out any hoove prints in the mess of pine needles, leaves and ferns. He hoped he was moving towards Roach and Scorpion and not the creature that had tried to kill him.

He stopped every once in a while, breathing, listening. No birdsong. No wind. Nothing. He dared himself to whistle every now and then, dread curling up tighter and tighter around his heart with every failed attempt.

The late afternoon slowly turned into evening and although the sun was out for much longer at this time of year, dusk settled in eventually. A soft, miserable whine left him at the realization that he would need to find a place to sleep for the night soon.

A night alone in a monster infested forest.

Joy.

He already knew he wouldn't get a wink of sleep tonight. But the more pressing matter was finding shelter. Even if dreamland wouldn't be getting a visit from him he still couldn't see in the dark and walk through the hours of the moon.

Looking around though there was nothing. Trees and bushes as wide as the eye could see, which wasn't very far in the first place. He was wary of the trees. They were thick and sturdy alright, but the branches at the bottom were too thin and he didn't want to try his luck climbing up further. Sure wild animals probably wouldn't get to him there. That thing that was haunting him, though? Yeah better not take any chances.

_You're lost, my dear_

_I see you wander_

_between the trees and stone_

_I'll guide you come, come follow me,_

_the voice that you can hear_

_I'll guide you through the storm_

The soft, lilting voice washed over him like a warm tidal wave. It spilled into his limbs, his blood and nerves and janked at him with a force Jaskier had no hope of fighting against. His body jerked around, feet dragging him forward and off into a direction Jaskier didn't want to go.

Despite his internal struggle he couldn't do anything but do as the voice commanded. Not even his scream was able to leave his throat. It was like someone had tied a myriad of tiny threads to him, using them to play him like a puppet.

And they were a master puppeteer. His body moved with a grace Jaskier couldn't reproduce on his best days, barely touching the ground. He floated between the trees, avoided the touches of rough bark and gentle leaves until he stepped through the treeline.

Back into the clearing where he had bathed with his pack.

The music stopped as soon as he had reached the shoreline. Not far off on the rock that Jaskier had used to wash the grime and blood off his canine friends, sat Spring an impish grin spreading their face wide.

"Hello Jaskier. It has been awhile."

Finding that his throat worked again the first thing that came out was the scream that had been stuck in there since his body had become a marionette. He clamped his mouth shut immediately, hands shooting up to press against his lips for good measure.

Spring winced a bit, but waved it off. "It's alright. Just the after affects I assume. Although I have to say I'm flattered. That was the most exciting greeting I've gotten in ages."

Tentatively Jaskier lowered his arms again and gave the Fae in front of him a nervous smile. "My apologies. My warmest greetings to you. May I ask why you have summoned me here?"

Spring idly plucked at their harp and hummed. Jaskier had to force himself not to flinch at every sharp note that filled the air. He wondered if Fae were like Witchers and could smell fear. He hoped not.

"You seemed quite lost. I thought I'd help you out."

"And I thank you for that. Truly. But what now?"

"Play a little tune with me? No strings attached this time."

The smile Spring gave him was all sharp teeth and glinting eyes, but weirdly enough Jaskier didn't feel threatened by the gesture. He thought back to Geralt and his odd behaviors that some would have found off putting. The growling and sniffing and the narrowing of his eyes. In the end Jaskier had always known that Geralt could be dangerous. That didn't mean that he would be dangerous to _Jaskier_.

Maybe Spring was the same, he thought. The Fae seemed to be the most benevolent of the three.

"My lute ran off, I fear."

Spring hummed again and waved their hand. Out of the forest crawled a few dozen vines, dotted with yellow flowers Jaskier had never seen before. In their grasp they had his lute, held carefully above the ground so as not to damage it.

The vines slithered up to him and rose, forming a pedestal for his beloved instrument.

"My lute!" Jaskier couldn't help but breath, reaching for her with shaking hands and cradling her to his chest, before checking her over.

"So? Will you play with me for a while?"

Jaskier nooded. "I will for an hour or two. After that I'll have to be on my way. I have to find my friends before that monster does."

"Of course. Shall I begin?"

"Please do."

Jaskier made himself comfortable on the ground while listening to the slow melody Spring had decided upon. Once he got the hang of it Jaskier joined in, sure fingers providing a lower harmony to Springs high notes.

"It's a Leshen, you know."

Jaskier blinked his eyes open again, the soothing rhythm of their jamming session having lulled him into a trance close to a meditative state.

"What?"

"The creature that attacked you. That was a Leshen. An old forest spirit, protector of the wild. They reside in deep, dense forests untouched by humans."

Jaskier toed off his shoes and scooted forward to dip his toes into the water. It was oddly warm, just like the air around him was oddly cool. Not cold. Mild. Pleasant.

"But..." Jaskier tried to remember the route that they had been travelling. "We aren't in a forest like that. Sure the road we used isn't exactly bustling with people, but there definitely are a few humans in the area."

The bandits the night before proofed it. And now that he thought about it wouldn't have Geralt or one of the others noticed if something was fishy about these woods?

"True." Spring said, singing the word, holding the tune for a few seconds. "We might have... displaced you a bit."

"You what?!"

Spring shrugged, not missing a beat in their music. "We let you be for long enough. Thought you'd entertain us on your own. I thought it was funny to just watch you, surely you would have gotten into trouble sooner or later, but- how did you call them again? Ah, Autumn and Winter got bored of you procrastinating. Decided to spice things up a bit. I think they're still cross with your Witchers, to be honest."

That. Jaskier needed a moment to digest that. Thankfully Spring didn't seem to begrudge him the one discordant note. Because...

_His pack._

If he was stuck with the nice one, then... Fuck he needed to find his wolves _now_. But he couldn't move anything but his arms to play the lute and his mouth to carry on the conversation. Right. He had promised Spring up to two hours of his time. Naturally he wouldn't be given an out.

"Where did you... displace us to?"

"Somewhere close to Kaer Morhen, probably a few days ride away?" Spring gave him another little shrug. "Winter choose the location. I decided not to be noisy."

"Winter and Autumn..." Jaskier swallowed, forcing out the next bit of the question even though he dreaded the answer. "What are they doing now?"

"With your Witchers?" Spring cut in, tilting their head to eye him up and down. "Breath little bard. I don't know. Probably nothing pleasant. Leshen can control wolves, you know." He mused plucking out a rhythm Jaskier could breath to or rather to force Jaskiers lungs into.

Jaskier tried to interrupt him, to ask or to tell him to stop, he didn't know. He couldn't. He was stuck breathing. In and out, one, two, three. In, out, one, two, three. He hated it. This was not calming him down! He could barely concentrate on what Spring was telling him. He struggled to do so anyway. This was important. He needed to listen now. His brain could sort out everything later.

Spring seemed to be unaware of his frantic internal fight. Or maybe they were very much aware and enjoyed every second of it. Whichever it was they barreled on, head tilted back to look at the clouds, the sun making their fair hair shimmer so it looked like a golden halo-

Wait...

"Witchers are immune to magic, I've heard. I wonder if that's still the case now, changed as they are. Either way you should be careful. Remember the brooch I gave you? That's not just for decoration. And oh, one more helpful tip, little bardling, Leshen are weak against fire, so you better use another bomb next time."

Did the Fae want him to burn the whole forest to the ground? He would do it if it would solve the issue, but Jaskier was still wary to put his trust in someone who seemed to have a blast playing with him.

Thankfully Spring remained quiet after that, seemingly content to coax the sweetest of sounds from their harp. Jaskier felt the magic leave him and the first breath he was allowed to make on his own reminded him of the first steps he had taken out of Oxenfurt after finishing his studies. Sweet freedom.

Jaskier let the music fill the clearing for a while, mulling over what he had been told and thinking about what he could ask next that could be important.

"Why are you travelling with Winter and Autumn? They don't seem to be the most... friendly of acquaintances." For a moment Jaskier feared that his running mouth had gotten him into trouble again, but a wistful smile bloomed on Springs face.

"Their cruelty and death..." They agreed, sounding unbelievably fond. "You sang it yourself, little bardling. The cold needs a little warmth to make it bearable."

Spring looked at him again and the spark in their eyes send a jolt of horror up Jaskiers spine. "You can't prolong suffering if there is no hope in sight."

Jaskier swallowed hard suddenly doubting that he had gotten the nice one out of the three of them.

The Fae laughed at him, probably amused by the way all colour had drained from his face. "Now enough with the tedious talking. We still got some time left, how about we sing a little? Play me some of your songs."

There really wasn't much else Jaskier could do, but at least this was familiar territory. He started to play one of his usual sets, carefully gauging Springs reaction as he did. He had the Faes undivided attention, their gaze fixated on Jaskiers fingers as they danced over the strings of his lute.

A genuine, delighted smile spread on their face when Jaskier began to sing and it wasn't long before Spring joined in with childish enthusiasm.

They whiled away the time like this and Jaskier, despite the underlying tension in all his movements, actually quite enjoyed himself to the point that he kinda forgot how long he had been sitting there playing his heart out.

"How sad our time is up." Spring cut in before Jaskier could launch into another song. The Fae looked truly dejected by that fact.

They both stood and Jaskier bowed to his jamming partner. "Thank you for having me. Now could you maybe tell me where I could possibly find my wayward companions?"

"I unfortunately can not. That would be depriving my friends of entertainment. But I'm positive you will find them...eventually."

"Could you at least tell me how that brooch works?"

Spring bared their teeth at him in a mockery of a smile. "You'll figure it out. Now." Spring drew a circle into the air with his index finger and then drew their hand up, arm outstretched and pointing in Jaskiers direction all the while. Jaskier yelped and sprung back when a bush shot out of the earth in front of him, loaded with huge, dark berries that looked absolutely delicious. "How about some food for the road?"

Jaskiers hand twitched to the offered treat before thinking better of it. "My most sincere thanks, but I've had some very good mushrooms not long ago that will tide me over for a while."

With a wave the bush disappeared. "Pity you're a smart one. Farewell then. May destiny let us cross paths again."

Jaskier barely managed his own farewell. In the blink of an eye Spring was gone and the clearing had transformed. Well not exactly _transformed_. It was still the same clearing, only instead of daytime it was now... dusk? Dawn? The sun was either about to go up or down, that was for sure. And Jaskier had the uncomfortable feeling it was the former.

Fuck. He had given Spring two hours, but it seemed like they hadn't been in the mortal world, so these two hours could have been anything from half a day to a few years. Shit he should have asked Triss about time differences between the Fae and the mortal realm!

Fear shot through him, the urgent _need_ to find his pack and make sure that they were safe ironically rooting him to the spot.

What was he supposed to do?! How was he supposed to find them?

_Howl_.

The thought smashed into his brain like lightening, some ancient fun fact knowledge he had snitched up at Oxenfurt coming back to him in his time of need. Wolves howled to rally the pack. Howls could be heard for miles. And Witcher hearing would make sure they heard him.

It was worth a try.

Jaskier took a huge breath. "AHOOOOOOOOOO~"

The volume of his cry startled a murder of crows and sent them flying away in a frenzy. But Jaskier didn't let that deter him. He howled his heart out, kept going until there was no air in his lungs anymore. Panting he waited for a reply.

It didn't take long.

Answering howls echoed back to him in the distance and came closer. Jaskier grinned and joined in, eager to draw them further to him.

Finally his pack would be with him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew barreled through writing this in like three sittings, cause I didn't have much time. Hope it's still coherent^^;


	9. Chapter 9

Jaskier was bouncing on his feet with excitement. They were so close now, he could already hear the rustling of the leaves! He stopped his howling to take a deep breath and that's when he noticed it.

There were more than three howls.

With the realization also came the first wolf, big, shaggy and very obviously not one of his darling Witchers. His heart plummeted into his stomach.

Oh no.

The wolf was a beautiful specimen, grey with smudges of copper and black and keen yellow eyes. It snarled at him, hackles raised and not an ounce of empathy in its gaze. Jaskier could hear the others surrounding him. He counted four or five more, but they were moving around and Jaskier couldn't be too sure.

Fuck, he hated this. He just wanted his pack back...

Jaskier kept his movements slow and small, taking his time to open the pouch and glance at the contents. Somewhere above him the crows had settled back into place, still and silent observers, maybe waiting for the wolves to finish him off so they could feast on his remains.

_Sorry crows_ , Jaskier thought, choosing his weapons with a determined frown, _not today_. With a quick flick of his wrist he hurled the little bundle he had grabbed at the wolfs feet. He squeezed his eyes shut the moment the bomb hit the ground and rose his arms up to prevent being blinded himself.

The movements were driven by pure instinct. It was what came after, that had him worried. He had to act fast before the wolves came to again. Opening his eyes he launched himself at his opponent, dagger drawn and ready for some stabbing action.

The sharp metal met the soft flesh at the junction between shoulder and neck as Jaskier went down with the howling and thrashing wolf. He jumped up, ripping the blade from the wound as he did and barely avoided having his hand torn off by a snapping jaw.

Jaskier stumbled back, heaving as bile threatened to climb up his throat. He switched the dagger into his non dominant hand and searched for another bomb. Thank Melitele for Triss' overpreparedness. He still had plenty to use, now he only needed the right one that wouldn't accidently blow him to bits.

The crows were cheering now, chanting a steady caw, caw, caw at him as if he were in a ring and they were the audience. Other than that he couldn't hear anything. The wolves didn't make another move. Maybe Jaskier had been lucky, maybe he had killed their alpha and they had to regroup.

Jaskier doubted he was that lucky, not if the Leshen was controlling them.

The Leshen... Jaskier dared to sweep his eyes over his surroundings. Nothing had changed, at least from what he could tell. The forest was as thick as it had been before and there was no huge shadow lurking somewhere at the edge of his vision.

Good, only the wolves then. Or, well really _not_ good. He'd rather be fighting anything else. Or, best case scenario, _nothing at all_ , thank you very much.

But nature was against him. Nature or the Fae or fuck maybe even fucking destiny, because he had only just shifted his weight onto his right foot when the pack burst out from the thicket to attack him from all sides. Jaskier didn't look at them, couldn't without drawing mental comparison to _his_ pack, and instead threw another enhanced Samun bomb to the ground at his feet and let himself fall and roll out of the circle of stupefied wolves.

He came up a second later, opening his eyes and grabbing his next weapon. Another wave of ice exploded in the area, coating the still staggering wolves in a thick sheen of frozen water. Seven statues of pale blue, caught in midflight and on the ground, twisted in agony from Jaskiers first attack decorated the clearing like some form of grotesque art. Something that you could have found at a deranged hunters cottage, or maybe in the garden of an eccentric mage.

Another bomb thrown, this time an enhanced dragons breath and right after a lit match. The following shockwave from the explosion slammed him to the ground and made him skit away a few feet. He stayed there, just like he had landed and tried to catch his breath as small, bloody shards of ice rained down on him.

The crows had fled again, shooed off by the loud bang and the flashes of light. There were no more wolves to howl, at least Jaskier hoped so, but the wind cautiously returned to sweep over the battlefield and wail at the fallen. Or maybe that was just Jaskiers Tinnitus.

Only after his ears had stopped ringing and the nausea had subsided a little did Jaskier dare to sit up. He didn't get much farther. His gaze caught the devastation he had wrought and a sob wracked his body.

Breath... He needed to breath.

_These weren't your wolves_ , Jaskier tried to reassure himself. _But they could have been_. A small, scared voice whimpered at the back of his head.

Damn it. Damn it all. He needed to get clean. He needed to get that blood off! Jaskier heaved himself up and staggered to the water. Parts of the shore were frozen over, but he didn't care, the cold would bring him back to himself, would ground him in the here and now. At least that's what Jaskier hoped. In truth it didn't do much more than make him wet and start to shiver.

He waded through the water anyway, up to the rock where he had bathed his wolves, a place tied to happy memories. He curled up on it, back deliberately turned from the mess he had created. Hopefully the rock would be safe enough to take a breather on. He just... needed a moment to compose himself. He wasn't ready to face the forest yet. Just two minutes.

Just two damn minutes and he would be fine.

~~~

Geralt didn't immediately know what was going on. One moment he was trodding alongside his bard, happy, clean and carefree and the next the forest had decided to become hostile towards them, the atmosphere shifting from lighthearted to threatening in a matter of seconds.

He wouldn't have left Jaskier alone under those circumstances. To be honest, in this shape with instincts overriding most of his intelligent thought, he wouldn't have left Jaskier under any circumstances beside maybe going to hunt dinner. Jaskier was a city boy, he would be lost and defenseless without them. But there was this insistant whistling, so high it made his brain hurt. It burrowed under his skin, took hold of his muscles and wrenched all control from him. Suddenly he was off, running after his brothers, the trees melting together behind him, preventing Jaskier from following them.

He soon caught up with Eskel and Lambert and together they raced towards an unknown goal. They send each other frantic gazes. In this form they couldn't exactly _talk_ and at the moment they were even more restricted as neither of them could make a sound. And yet they still somehow managed to understand each other. None of them knew what the fuck was going on and it freaked them out.

There was no telling how long they had run. The canopy of the trees had woven itself together to form one solid ceiling unwilling to let through any light. But eventually the whistling stopped abruptly and Geralt tumbled to the mossy ground, his momentum carrying him into the next bush. Eskel and Lambert didn't fare any better. Geralt heard Lambert yelp and then a dull thud, indicating that their youngest brother had been stopped by a tree trunk.

Despite the aweful noise being gone Geralts head was still somewhat fuzzy. His limbs were twitching, unsure if they actually belonged to him or to someone else and so it took him far longer to stand than he would have liked.

Eskel had been the first to recover and had taken it on himself to check on Lambert, who was still fighting to untangle himself from the foliage he had stumbled into after having hit the tree. Eskel nosed at Lamberts head as Geralt drew closer, simultanously encouraging Lambert and making sure that he was okay.

Geralt wasn't as patient. After getting a good sniff himself he carefully took him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him up. Lambert yowled and thrashed in response, but eventually found himself on all fours again, so he stopped complaining. Geralt was even granted a little lick on the nose as a form of gratitude.

It was strange, the amount of affection they gave each other so freely in these forms. Geralt mused as he nuzzled Lamberts cheek in return, tail giving two lazy wags before going back to scanning the parameter. It had scared Geralt at first, especially when Jaskier had joined their little group and his brothers had warmed up to him enough to accept his pets. Doubly so when _Geralt_ had started to accept Jaskiers pets.

There was just something about being a wolf that destroyed all of his inhibitions. His animal brain told him what to do, it was emotion that drove all of them now, not logic. Not most of the time. It was a surprisingly good blend and none of them seemed to mind, least of all Jaskier. So Geralt and his brothers had eventually relaxed and started to enjoy themselves while they could...

Geralt shook himself. This was no time for complex thinking, they needed to find Jaskier and fast or there would be no more pets and cuddles. Eskel and Lambert were already scenting the air, Lambert growling low in his throat, a warning. Something wasn't right.

Stretching his head up to catch the wind with his nose Geralt was inclined to agree. The air was prickly and the smells around them were part foreign and part familiar. His ears pressed themselves close to his skull without his say so and he let out a growl of his own. This wasn't the forest they had entered. This one stank of magic and had a certain presence to it. Something ancient and angry.

A whimper from Eskel made him look over. His brother had his tail tucked between his legs and he was whining, huge yellow eyes focussed somewhere far away. And then Geralt could smell it, too.

_Jaskier_.

Or more precise: Jaskiers _fear_.

Fuck, not again. It had been bad enough the last time, with only a bunch of shitty bandits threatening their bard. They couldn't bear to smell Jaskiers distress again. Not so soon. Not _ever_.

Geralt and Lambert were at Eskels side in an instant, trying to make out where the smell was coming from. His scent mingled with the ones of Roach and Scorpion, both horses on the verge of panicking themselves.

This was not good. Geralt picked up his pace, flanked by his two brothers. The scent got stronger. Not long now. So close.

The whistling started up again and yanked Geralt back mid leap. There was the sound of an explosion and a distinct noise that could only come from a bunch of roots forced to grow faster than they were supposed to. Several crows came flying towards them, wild and scared, unable to flee through the tight canopy of trees, having to duck between the branches instead, trapped in this green hell.

Geralt howled, straining against the force that urged him into the opposite direction, away from the fight, away from his bard, who was so obviously in great danger.

A Leshen.

Jaskier was facing a Leshen of all bloody things! Their human wasn't prepared for a fight like that! And Roach and Scorpion. He could hear them galloping off, their scent drifting further and further away from Jaskiers, robbing him of any chance of a fast escape.

Eskel whined beside him and Lambert had dug his teeth into a fallen tree trunk, while his paws scratched into the ground, trying with all his might to resist the call of that damn whistle.

Geralt barked at him to stop, ears drawing back when he heard a light pop in Lamberts jaw. He managed to get to him at last, although it felt like fighting against the ocean. He snapped at Lamberts snout, unable to really coordinate his moves much or make sure he didn't use too much force. It did the trick, though. Lambert let go with a wounded yelp and turned to snarl at him and that was enough to set them all off and moving again.

Tired Geralt let the shrill tune invade his being. It would not do to fight it, that only made it worse and he needed his energy for later.

Jaskiers scent got fainter and fainter the longer they were urged to move and by the time the high note ringing in their heads cut off again there was barely a trace of him left in the air.

Panting they flopped onto the ground, muscles twitching with over excertion. Lambert and Eskel curled up together, Eskel carefully cleaning Lamberts bloody snout. After catching his breath Geralt wobbled over to them, hesitant at first, but soon draping himself over the two of them when Lambert gave him a whine and a halfhearted tailwag.

He snuffled into his brothers ears, seeking comfort. He was happy Lambert had forgiven him for his little stunt, but was still worried about the waves of distress pouring out from both of them.

They didn't take a break for long. Or... At least they thought they weren't. Something about the spot they had found themselves in made their minds fill with a kind of heavy fog. It bribed them with promises of sweet oblivion. Told them to just forget about everything and fall asleep.

They nipped at each other to stay awake until they found the mental willpower to get up and search for Jaskiers scent again. It was hard to remember which direction they had come from and they were hesitant to seperate in these treacherous, ever changing woods. So they put some distance between themselves and that strangely alluring spot where the sun shone despite the ceiling of tightly knit leaves and put their noses to the ground again.

There was nothing. Not a whiff of their bard. But there was noise. Their heads shot up at the loud howl that could only belong to a musically inclined human. Ears pricked forward and Geralts heart leapt with joy. Their human was calling them! Brilliant, brilliant Jaskier had thought of a way to guide them home!

Geralt raised his head to give an answering howl and reassure Jaskier that they heard him, but the sentiment got stuck in his throat. Cruel, amused laughter filled the space around them and then that wretched high-pitched sound took hold of them again. As they were torn from their path back home again they heard another pack answering the call of their bard instead.

~~~

It had been far over two minutes and Jaskier was still staring off into space, unseeing and head empty. His fingers had grasped the brooch Spring had given him at some point and were now tracing along the petals. The sleek metal was the only thing that kept him from tumbling further into the bland darkness of his mind. At least he had stopped trembling and his breath came out in small, but controlled puffs.

He knew he should probably move. The Leshen could come for him again any moment now. But he just... couldn't. Where was he supposed to go anyway? The Leshen controlled the forest, going into it would only serve to get him more lost.

And Jaskier didn't dare to whistle or howl again, not with the last disastrous effects still surrounding him.

" _You're lost my dear, I see you wander...between the trees and stone_ " he sung, the tune still stuck in his head for some reason. " _I'll guide you, come, come follow me...I'll guide you through the storm..._ "

He sang to himself, low and quiet as to not disturb the wildlife around him. It calmed him, singing always had. The beauftiful craftsmanship in his hands vibrated as he did, the surface growing warmer. Jaskier stopped humming and blinked down at Springs gift. As soon as he grew silent the brooch grew cold and still again.

Jaskier hummed a few experimental tunes to see if any melody could trigger it, but no. Only Springs song worked.

Careful not to slip and accidently crack his skull open on the rock, Jaskier returned to the grassy bits of the clearing, pointedly avoiding looking at the torn corpses that littered the place. Determined he sang the verses again and looked around for any kind of sign that the brooch _did_ something.

A splash of yellow waved at him from the edge of the tree line. The bold colour hadn't been there before. Curious Jaskier wandered closer and sang again once the tip of his boots touched the delicate petals of a buttercup.

The effect was immediate. More buds sprouted from the ground, seemingly nudging the trees aside to make a path for him.

Jaskiers heart skipped a beat as he gazed down the trail of vibrant flowers that lead him into the darkness. Was this his means to find his pack again? Or was it another trap, a trickle of hope so Spring could make sure Jaskier continued to play their little game.

He stepped over the edge of the forest, baring his teeth against the shadows as he continued to sing.

Only one way to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here have some angst to spice up the fluff later.
> 
> Alternative title: How many The Amazing Devil song lyrics can I shoehorn into this fic before it gets pathetic?


	10. Chapter 10

Geralt wondered if it would ever stop. They had been running for what felt like an eternity, all sense of direction lost as the forest shifted and changed around them. He and his packmates had made some valiant efforts to break from the thrall the whistle had on them. Nothing had worked. It had only tired them out more.

They did get some breaks once in a while, when black was already starting to creep into their vision. Thankfully, this time, they collapsed close to a stream and were fast to stagger into it. They were overheating, their thick fur not made for these kinds of high temperatures. The smoldering heat was bullshit anyway, in Geralts opinion. They were plunged in semi darkness most of the time. The air had no business being so hot if there was no sun to warm it up.

Unless... unless the forest wasn't really changing at all and it just _seemed_ that way. Geralt was about to bark at his brothers to communicate his realization in some way, but wrestled the sound back down when he looked over to find Lambert curled up and fast asleep.

Eskel was laying close by, the movement alerting him. Yellow eyes peered blearily at him, before Eskel let out a nearly soundless huff and limped over. Geralt licked over his scars in greeting and started to produce a series of small, short whimpering sounds, pointing his nose upwards to the canopy of leaves. He still didn't quite know how their communication worked, but had decided not to think about it too hard.

It was working. They understood each other. That was enough.

This time was no different. Eskel watched him and then made a rumbling almost growl in agreement. Yes, a Leshen, especially an ancient one, was powerful, but not to this extent. And the heat _was_ strange. That pointed more towards a major illusion. Which meant no Leshen was involved in _their_ plight. Fuck, Geralt hoped Jaskier was alright.

That epiphany didn't help them in the least, of course. Only made them more wary. And the respite was short lived anyway. Soon enough they were dragged back onto their paws, Lambert being able to let out one pitiful whine before all control was given over to the high note in their heads.

They ran despite their muscles screaming at them to stop, despite the black holes their stomachs had turned into and despite the fatigue that wanted to claim them. They ran until they reached a deadend. A wall of rocks that towered over their heads, with a suspicious hole nestled somewhere high above them.

A safe distance away, on one of the protruding platforms sat Winter and Autumn. The Fae dressed in browns and yellows was leaning against Winter, who lowered a small, wooden flute from her lips.

As the tone cut the three brothers collapsed to the ground, panting and trembling, too exhausted to even growl.

"Poor things, ran all out of steam." Autumn mused, head pressed into Winters bare shoulder.

"Hmm, poor indeed. Not so rude now."

"Can't be rude if you can't talk." Autumn hummed. "And they seem to have abandoned the tactic of threatening us with violence, too. I wonder if they are in any state to fight?"

Winter played with the flute, acting desinterested, but the sly smile betrayed how much she was enjoying all this. "We'll see."

Geralt didn't need to guess what they were hinting at. He had been able to smell it for a while. There was a Wyvern close by, probably nesting in that hole in the wall. With far too much effort that spoke much of their ability to win the oncoming fight they stood up and began to sniff the air.

"They're ignoring us." Autumn whined playfully. "I take it back, you can still be rude even without a voice."

"Hush now, they are preparing for battle."

Geralt sneezed in their direction, just to delight in the disgusted curl of Autumns lips. But the satisfaction didn't last long. An ear piercing screech assaulted Geralts already tortured ears. And not long after a scaly body launched itself out of the cliff face and into the air, flying a tight circle around them. It only halted briefly to nuzzle Autumn and Winter hello and even had the audacity to make little, happy chirping noises when Winter scratched under its chin with her long nails.

"Go get them, honey." Winter whispered and pushed the Wyvern away from her.

Her pet went willingly, focussing on its prey before puffing up and hissing at them. Eskel yelped and jumped to the side. It was a hot miss. The venomous liquid graced the tips of Eskels hair. It didn't look too good afterwards either. Eskels legs trembled with the effort to stay upright.

Geralt wished they had their potions. A bit of Swallow and Blizzard would have been amazing right now. Alas, they only had good old adrenalin to shake off the fatique and ready them for battle.

He didn't think it would be enough.

He barked at Lambert and Eskel to disperse and kept a wary eye on Winter. The best chance they had to survive was to run, but he doubted they would be allowed to do so. Which meant he had to find out how big exactly their fighting space was.

While Lambert and Eskel drew the Wyverns attention to them with howls and barks Geralt veered off and shot into the thicket. His outstretched front paw had barely even touched the leaves of the first bush when the sharp whistle sounded again and he was yanked back. Fuck, no taking cover then.

He had just gotten his limbs back under control when Lamberts panicked howl warned him of an oncoming attack. First a shadow, then a pair of claws descended on him. Geralt let his legs buckle, jaw clicking as he smashed to the ground to avoid being shredded.

He sprang back up just as Eskel decided to barrel into the Wyverns side. He met air instead. The huge reptile beat its wings to evade the mass of snarling wolf, heaving itself into the air with another terrifying scream.

Eskel skidded to a stop and let out a frustrated bark. This would lead them nowhere. They needed something to get it down. A crossbow would have been nice. Or Aard. Damn them for not having hands at the moment. Who new being a wolf could have so many drawbacks? Jaskier had spoiled them.

Nope. Not thinking about the bard now. Geralt berated himself as he dodged another lethal amount of venom, that was spit in his direction. Focus on the bard- no the fight! The fight was important. They needed to be alive to help Jaskier with the Leshen.

Tired with attacking them from a distance the Wyvern dived down again. It looked like it was going for Lambert, but in a split second it changed its course and went for Geralt instead. It was a testament to how fucking tired he was that Geralt was so slow to react.

He already felt the horrid breath of the creature on his face, could see deep into its throat and braced himself for the inevitable. A small tremor send pleasant vibrations up his paws. And then the ground between them split open right before impact. A thin vine shot out of the crack, curled around the Wyverns throat and pulled.

With a heavy thud the beasts head got smashed into the dirt right in front of Geralt, who jerked back out of utter shock.

"Spring!" both Winter and Autumn complained.

Spring was jumping from one invisible platform to the next, skipping through the air with a carefree smile until they reached the other Fae.

"Sorry!" came the cheerful reply.

Immediately the vine slithered out of the ground and wrapped around the Wyverns throat, colourful flowers opening up to decorate the new collar. The creature shook itself in a daze and sneezed. Or was in the middle of doing so, at least, when it was rudely interrupted by Lambert jumping at it.

Geralt could only stare in horror as Lamberts teeth closed around the Wyverns new accessoire as the beast reeled back. It took off again, the wiggling wolf hanging onto it fucking up its balance. It landed again a few paces away and shook itself to try and get rid of its unwanted passenger.

Eskel and Geralt wasted no time to advance and pounce. Both went for the legs and tried to pull it down further. Neither could get a good hit in. The Wyvern was angry and frantic. It was moving too fast, spinning round and round to lash out with its tail, wings beating against the ground to send dust into their eyes.

Lamberts strength was fading, too, Geralt noticed. The black wolfs yellow eyes had gone hazy and unfocussed. Geralt bolted to get to him before his youngest brother had to let go. Lambert crashed into him and they both tumbled to the floor, panting hard.

Geralt carefully nosed at his brother, who was trembling all over and coughing out petals.

"I'd take him out for a bit, if I were you." came Springs cheerful advice. They had nestled themself between Winter and Autumn and were smiling down on Geralt with too sharp teeth. "Those were poisonous."

Shit no. Geralt tried to drag Lambert away from the thrashing Wyvern, while frantically looking for some kind of cover. It nearly got them whipped by a tail, before Lambert found his faculties again and snapped at Geralt that he was fine.

Spring shrugged when Geralt looked up at them again with narrowed eyes. "Not for your kind, though. But he _does_ look pretty exhausted, don't you think?"

Geralt snarled and snapped in Springs direction. Bastard. The Wyvern had taken to the air again in the meantime, giving them a bit of a breather to regroup. The spread out in a semi circle, as close to the treeline as they were allowed to go. That way they were at least partially in cover.

It was a waiting game. The Wyvern had to make the first move, but it was more cautious now having gotten a few scrapes itself.

He should have had his full focus on the creature, but his attention was divided between it and the Fae. They were whispering to each other, but Geralt could still hear them.

"You're done with yours, already?" Autumn asked, leaning close to Springs ear.

Springs face morphed into something that could have been described as a fond expression, had there not been a certain undercurrent of maliciousness there as well. "I am. He's so cute! I wish we could keep him, but he refused my offer of food, clever little thing."

Winter rubbed Springs back in comfort. "Just send him an invitation to the next midsummer festival. He might actually show up."

Geralt dodged another spit ball and tensed as the Wyvern went for a dive, only to stop at the last second and get back up. It was trying to draw them together, to make them attack. He only eyed their enemy for a brief moment before focussing back on the trio of Fae, heart skipping all over the place.

Spring had been to see Jaskier. Fuck, the Leshen had been bad enough. But they spoke of him in the present tense. Which meant that he was at least alive. Fuck, he _prayed_ Jaskier was fine.

Somewhere to his right Eskel barked in alarm and set Geralt in motion again. Right, no distractions now. They needed to win this fight.

~~~

Jaskiers voice had grown a hoarse a while ago as he sung the few lines of song over and over again. The lyrics still rang clear and loud through the dark. At first Jaskier had been worried about attracting unwanted attention, but the brooch seemed to keep him safe enough.

The ever growing path of flowers had begun to glow as the light of the sun had become unable to pierce through the leaves above. Strange shadows and noises hid in the black nestled in the hollow spaces between the trees. And sometimes the branches seemed to reach for him, but never dared to touch.

At this point Jaskier feared what would happen would his voice give out. The darkness might consume him then. Or worse. And yet, even as his throat became sore and there was still no end in sight, he could not bring himself to run.

He might have been quite the fit fellow, but even he only had a limited capacity for drawing in air.  
Turning back was not an option either. He had walked a considerable distance, for one. But there was also no chance of finding the way back. The flowers wilted behind him, cutting off his escape route.

There was no other way to go but forward.

He started to regret not accepting Springs offer of food when his stomach was done processing the meager meal he had had before their encounter. Right after he cursed himself for being too much of a coward to stop singing. His tongue felt like sandpaper and his lips were cracking. An insistant itch had formed in the back of his throat urging him to cough. And his waterskin was hanging from his belt! There to grab and drain. It would be so easy hadn't he needed his mouth to sing instead.

Thus the relief he felt upon seeing the slim line of light appear not too far from him was nearly overwhelming. Freedom! A wide smile stretched across his face. Freedom at last!

He might not have been able to run, but he picked up his pace as much as he could until finally he broke through the foliage, into the brightness of the day. And stumbled right across an angry Wyvern.

The beast was drawing tight circles between the treeline and cliffwall. Behind it sat the three Fae, who all waved at him with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Dumbfounded he waved back at them, unaware that the overgrown, winged reptile had zeroed in on him and was going in for the kill.

He had not even a second to stumble back from the stinking maw, song forgotten and brooch fallen to the ground. And then he too had landed in the dirt, a thrashing Wyvern in touching distance before him and three grown wolves on its back, pinning down the wings and going for the throat.

Jaskier was dazed by the sheer joy bubbling up inside of him at the sight of his pack. He was frozen by it and could only watch with a stupid, smitten smile on his face and tears in his eyes as his three wolves fought to subdue the beast.

"Enough!" Autumns voice rose above the commotion.

Seconds later his pack perked up in a weird, unnatural way and jumped off the Wyvern. The creature limped away from them, shook itself and then flew over to the Fae, where it got some reassuring pets from Autumn and Spring.

"That was a fine show." Winter said, watching her kin shower the Wyvern with love and praise. "But I believe you have horses to find and places to be." She nodded at Jaskier. "Spring would like to invite you to out next midsummer festival." An outraged, embarassed noise from Spring interrupted her. "We'd be thrilled to have you." She added with a grin that showed way too many teeth. "Don't forget your brooch, songbird."

And in the blink of an eye, they were gone. And so was the clearing. Instead they found themselves on a barely trodden path in a part of the forest where the trees knew better than to stand too close to each other and the sunlight had an easy time reaching the moss covered ground.

"Geralt! Lambert! Eskel!" Jaskier cheered as the three pounced on him.

Suddenly nothing else mattered anymore but the massive furry bodies squirming to get as much affection as he was able to dish out. Not the exhaustion or the confusion. Not the sudden rude displacement of their bodies. They were back together and they were well.

Jaskier buried his face in the thick fur of Eskels neck and drew them all close, his arms barely able to get around them all. His three friends tried to let him, but couldn't really hold still. They wriggled and sniffed and tried to lick any bit of skin they could find. A cacophony of happy and inquiring noises left them. Whimpers, whines, little barks and howls that made Jaskier throw his had back to release a wet laugh.

He yelped when Geralt squirmed forward and pushed the other two to the side so he could sling his paws around Jaskiers neck, nearly sending them both toppling over.

"Gerl-" was the only thing he got out before there was an insistant tongue licking into his mouth and behind his teeth.

As fast as Geralt had shot forward to do so he retreated again, out of Jaskiers lap but not too far away. Lambert and Eskel sat on either side of him, close by and panted in amusement.

"Did you- Geralt did you just kiss me?!" Jaskier asked, a bit of hysteria creeping up into his voice as he rubbed his lips and tried to get the gross taste of wolf out of his mouth, while furiously fighting down a blush.

Geralt just slumped down to the floor and covered his snout with his paws, huge yellow eyes peering up at him. His Witcher let out a truly pityful whine and Jaskier couldn't help but coo.

"Oh darling, I appreciate the gesture. Just, maybe not while you're a wolf."

That he had focussed so much on Geralt the last few seconds obviously didn't sit well with the other two. Eskel and Lambert both skipped over to him as soon as the words had been out. And of course they both tried to replicate Geralts actions, now that they knew Jaskier found it gross.

"Noooo. Bad boys! Off!" Jaskier laughed, caught between shoving away their insistant mouths and wanting to draw them closer to cuddle them. "No more pets for you if you keep this up!"

His threat fell on deaf ears, obviously labelled as untrue and Geralt had to come to his rescue again. He pulled Lambert off by the scruff and pinned him down, which ended up turning into a wrestling match. That left Eskel as the winner, who seated himself firmly in Jaskiers lap, buried his head in the crook of Jaskiers collarbone and melted into the even, soothing strokes of slightly shakey hands down his back and sides.

Eventually Geralt and Lambert joined them again, pressing in close on either side of Jaskier and licking his sweat covered cheeks, before stilling and just enjoying the closeness.

It was still unbearably hot, even more so now with three furnaces caging him in from all sides. He was still hungry and thirsty. And they were still lost and their pack not yet complete. But for now it didn't matter. 

They had found each other again.

Their next trials could wait a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Wolves will try to lick into your mouth as a sign of trust and inclusion and to find out if you are healthy and well. They are rather aggressive about it and it's considered rude if you don't let them, as it's important for them to be allowed to do so. As soon as I saw a documentary on that I knew I needed to include this. Not how you thought the first kiss between Geralt and Jaskier would happen, huh? XD
> 
> Btw. I fought hard with that fighting scene. I wanted to include @DarkInuFans idea with the pack encountering a Wyvern, as I needed a trial for them anyway, but I can't write action scenes for shit XD


	11. Chapter 11

After the first few bouts of dopamine had circulated through his system the predicament he had found his dear wolves in finally registered in his brain. The realization made him squirm in the happy, panting pile of wolves, which earned him several whines of protest.

"Oh hush, you three! Let me look at you! Are you alright?"

He grabbed at the first Witcher he could get his hands on, drawing the, for once, willing mass of black fur towards him. Lambert was surprisingly patient as Jaskier ran his hands over his body. He slumped over Jaskiers outstretched legs and began to doze off not long after. Not patient then, exhausted.

As he briefly glanced over the other two he saw the same signs of wear on them. Geralt and Eskel had sprawled out in a shadowy area not far from Jaskier and were emitting adorable snorting noises as they slept.

Lambert winced when Jaskiers hands gently prodded at his jaw, drawing his attention back to the lupine in his lap.

"Poor dear. Everything is alright now."

Massaging a wolf was very different from loosening muscles of a human. And while he had carefully inspected Lambert for injuries, Jaskier was still afraid to accidentally hurt him in a way. Lambert didn't seem to have the same worry. He leant into every touch and soon a steady growling rumble had built up in his chest sending pleasant vibrations over Jaskiers throbbing legs.

Jaskier took his time with him, only stopped to grab his water skin to take a few greedy gulps of much needed liquid. He let time pass them by, the only one awake to guard the pack for once. Geralt and Eskel would need to be thoroughly checked later, but for now Jaskier decided to let them sleep.

It was both easy and hard to stay awake to watch over his dear wolves. The sun beat down on the world with ever growing enthusiasm and the black wolf, draped over his knees was very counterproductive to staying cool. The haze of the day made him all dizzy and tired, but the discomfort the heat brought kept him mostly awake.

Sweat had soaked through most of his clothes, to the point where it felt like he had peed himself. The bright doublet and stylish linen chemise clung to his skin and seemingly rubbed it raw. By the time his pack rose he yearned for the lake again, or any kind of cold water, really.

What he got was about just as good, but rather counterproductive to the heat. While Lambert stood and stretched, Geralt and Eskel trodded over for Jaskier to check over. Both deserved just as much affection and care as he had shown Lambert and thus they came to enjoy the miracles Jaskiers dexterious hands could work.

Geralt was the last who got his roundabout care package. And his best friend used the time to lick the sweat away from Jaskiers skin and making pleased little growls. Lambert, curious, joined Geralt in his cleaning duty, but was soon growled and snapped at by Geralt. This of course made Eskel want to try and see what all the fuss was about. His nose nearly collided with the underside of Jaskiers jaw in his eagerness to be part of the little scuffle.

"Ugh! Guys behave! Either you get yourselves sorted out or I'm stopping right now."

Lambert snorted at the threat, eyes gleaming with mirth from where he had laid down, a particularly well shaded spot which was still in petting distance. Geralt and Eskel, however where quick to obey. Geralt halted his obssessive licking until Eskel had settled back down and started up with renewed vigor when everyone had calmed down again.

Jaskier wasn't even mad about it anymore. Yes it was disgusting as fuck and only strengthened Jaskiers desire for a bath, but Geralts tongue was also cold and with this weather, beggers couldn't be choosers.

Once everyone was well rested and tended to, Jaskier was finally allowed to stand up again. The world tilted dangerously as he did, a sharp ringing filling his ears as his vision got overtaken by an army of black and white spots. As he blinked the dizziness away his wolves crowded against him to keep him stable.

Carefully Jaskier wiped the already newly formed sweat away from his forehead and drank the last remnants of his flask.

"I hate to say this again, because last time got us in a load of trouble, but it seems we'll need to find another water source. Please don't just shoot off this time."

His pack gave a synchronous, affirmative bark and together they began to move along the path.  
Geralt, Eskel and Lambert scented the environment pretty effectively between the three of them. And after what felt like hours, but was probably far less, Eskel caught a whiff of the life giving liquid.

Thankfully, while at least twice as desperate for water as before, this time none of them bounded off. Instead Geralt gently took a bit of Jaskiers chemise into his mouth and tugged him into the direction Eskel and Lambert were leading them.

It wasn't a lake, but the little stream that bubbled along the forest floor was clear and held enough water to reach up to Jaskiers ankles. Jaskier groaned in delight as he felt the stream rush against his overheated skin, cooling his sore, abused feet. 

Washing his face and arms had never felt more divine and the four devoted another big junk of time to just sit there and drink their fill. Like alcoholics they gulped down one load of water after the next until the sun grew tired of her virgil in the sky and left to give her post up to the moon.

The spot they had found themselves in wasn't exactly the most optimal to make camp and yet neither of them cared much at this point.

When the time came to go hunting Geralt didn't budge from Jaskiers side. A few growls were exchanged between the three wolves, Lambert obviously not happy about the shift in tasks. But no amount of whining and bitching on the youngest Witchers side got Geralt to back down. By the end of the arguement Lambert had his tail between his legs, Eskel licking his face in sympathy and Jaskier had taken most of Geralts weight as the white wolf practically draped himself over Jaskiers side.

A twinge of fear sparked in Jaskiers gut as he watched Eskel and Lambert leave. In order to ignore it he gently dislodged Geralt and started to prepare the camp site.

While Jaskier evened out the ground and looked for stones to built a fire circle with, Geralt trodded off in search for sticks to bring to him. He never ventured far, always in immediate sniffing distance. By the time Jaskier was done with his task Geralt had amassed a decently sized pile of firewood.

The only problem was that Geralt did not want him to touch the pile. Whenever he tried to grab one of the twigs to built the fire with Geralt would his ears would swivel back and with his teeth bared he'd snarl at Jaskier.

After several unsuccessful tries, where he tried to cajole his companion into giving up his hoard Jaskier sat down on his ass and threw his hands up in the air in surrender.

"Alright mister grumpy pants! How do you want to play this game?"

There came an indignant huff from the canine and then a thin branch was handed to him. When Jaskier hesitated to take it, Geralt nearly poked a hole into his chemise. A wet nose snuffled beside his hand as Jaskier placed the wood down in the fire circle, nudging it into a different position.

"Geralt... I can built fireplaces on my own, you know." Jaskier said, pouting. He still accepted the next twig that was offered to him.

The bark he received could loosely be translated into: _Yes you can, but you're shit at it._

"You're a nightmare." Jaskier muttered, ruffling Geralts fur.

Stick by stick was handed to him by the tail wagging, wolf turned Witcher. And yes, okay the fireplace did look much better than usual when he was involved. He'd never tell that Geralt though.

Jaskier held out his hand for the last small branch, but when he tried to pull it out of Geralts mouth, Geralt didn't want to let go of it.

"Geralt!" Jaskier laughed, tugging in vain at the dry wood while Geralt pulled at it with a happy little growl.

His dearest wolf didn't budge, only pulled harder and nearly send Jaskier crashing face first into the dirt. Jaskier retaliated, yanking the sturdy piece of wood to him and started scratching behind Geralts ear when he was close enough.

Immediately Geralt let go of the stick to crowd into Jaskiers space and steal as much pets from him as possible. But as soon as Jaskier had freed the stick he bent away with a shout of triumph.

"Hah! Got it!"

Geralt yelped and with a determined look in his eyes, pounced on Jaskier to try and snatch the toy back. A shriek of laughter echoed through the forest as Jaskier caught the weight of his dear friend and tumbled to the floor with him.

"Fetch!"

The breathtakingly heavy mass of white fluff sprang up as Jaskier threw the stick. With a stupidly large grin he watched as Geralt sprinted after the twig and came back with it all puffed up and proud.

Duty to start a fire forgotten they continued to play instead, throwing, fetching, pulling and tugging until they ended up rolling around the camp site, locked in a playfight for the ownership of the stick.

They came to a halt inches from the stream, Jaskier underneath Geralt, both panting and laughing in their own way. Jaskier held the stick in front of him with both hands, Geralts mouth firmly shut around the wood in between them. Blue stared into yellow and Jaskier caved.

He forfeited the toy to grab the fur on both sides of Geralts face to draw him closer, nuzzling along Geralts forehead and the bridge of his nose, cooing and praising his favourite Witcher. Gods he had missed spending quality time with him. Having the other pack members around was great and all, but Geralt would always be special to him.

Geralt leaned wholeheartedly into the affections, happily gnawing on the sturdy wood between his teeth. Life was good.

The twitch of Geralts ear clued Jaskier in to the arrival of their other two pack mates long before the two barks of joy. Jaskier carefully detangled himself from Geralt and inspected the deer Eskel and Lambert had caught, praising them for their good catch.

He could have talked to one of the trees instead, because Eskel and Lambert were immediately enthralled by Geralts new toy. Well, at least he didn't have insistant snouts trying to steal the best pieces of meat while he worked this time.

The rest of the evening was spend in a calm bubble of false security. They ate, played, sang and howled as though they needed to proof that they were fine and unafraid. Both was bullshit, but it was nice to pretend for a little while.

That night, they threw caution to the wind and arranged themselves in a big cuddle pile. Surrounded by his wolves, belly blessedly full and no immediate threat in sight sleep claimed him fast and his dreamscape stayed benevolent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short intermission chapter this time, because I needed to write some fluff again.
> 
> I read that dogs lick their owners mostly to either give or seek affection, so have some more sloppy puppy kisses.  
> Also it's hot as fuck where I'm at and I'm yearning for cold water, so I compensated by writing about it instead.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments! I haven't come around to answering all of them yet, but they always brighten my day and give me the strength to power through writing another chapter despite the dizzying heat.


	12. Chapter 12

Resources filled back up and full of renewed energy they ventured out the next day to find Roach and Scorpion. Jaskier tried to sing a few verses of the song Spring had taught him to see if the brooch would also lead him to their last two pack members. But all it did was sprout a big circle of buttercups and dandelions around them all, which made Eskel have a sneezing fit.

All three wolves made it clear afterwards that Jaskier was not to sing. They glared at him whenever his hand as much as twitched towards his lute strap. And they pulled at his clothing and growled when he tried to sing a note. Jaskier sulked as they wandered down the path, feeling just the slightest bit put off. It was his musical talent that had got them so far, after all.

His packmates were tense as they trodded along, sniffing the ground and air with a single minded focus. They stayed close to him, scared that they would be pried away from him again. This way Jaskier at least had the chance to grab one or two of them before they went off.

He tended to have his hands twisted in at least one of the Witchers fur. Jaskier, too, was wary of the peace. He had tried to identify where they could have ended up, but nothing here looked familiar.

Granted it was a forest. Forests all pretty much looked the same to him. What? It wasn't like there was a specific landmark he could remember! Like some kind of huge, pretty tree or special plant that only grew in one certain forest.

What he did notice was that, while the woods felt less threatening and dark than before, they were still pretty damn creepy. Sure everything was sunshine, but the crows were back and Jaskier just knew that they were watching them.

There was a strange tension in the air. A weird, stale taste that dried out his mouth faster than the heat ever could. His vision flickered every once in a while, disorientating him. He kept seeing a hulking shadow at the edge of his vision.

Despite his wolves warnings Jaskier really wanted to keep singing. Spring had said the brooch would keep him safe on his travels and true to their word, nothing had attacked him when he had been been wandering on his own singing his heart out.

Geralt growled at his side, shaking himself hard and pressed back into Jaskiers hand. A few paces later Lambert shook his head and Eskel went down to sit and scratch his ear in irritation not long after.

Frowning at their strange behavior Jaskier went over to them to check that they weren't hurting. He grabbed Lamberts face and rubbed at his ears. The yellow eyes that stared back at him had their pupils slitted one moment and wide and round the next, alternating between the two states in a movement that imitated the slow raise and fall of his chest.

A quick glance at Eskel and Geralt told him that both showed the same signs. Jaskier cursed under his breath, oh how he wished he had a rope with him! Putting leashes on them wouldn't have been the best solution but would have had least calmed his mind a bit.

He tilted his head and tried to ignore the irritated whines of his friends. He couldn't hear anything unusual. No high note or rumbling sound. He wasn't exactly surprised by that. He hadn't heard Winters flute when she had played it either, after all.

"Please keep fighting against it." he muttered, standing up and looked around wildly for something that would provide at least a margin of safety.

Jaskier snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. "Geralt, come here!"

Geralt scooted closer to him, swaying gently from side to side, gaze unfocussed. He laid his head on Jaskiers shoulder, who had once again crouched down, and whined.

"I know. I know. You're doing wonderful." Jaskier soothed him.

Carefully he guided Geralts head so that they could look at each other and pressed his hands down over Geralts ears, watching the shrinking and expanding pupils. "Does this help?"

As an answer Geralt growled and tried to launch himself forward to bite at his nose. Jaskier scrambled back fast. Lambert and Eskel dove at Geralt pinning him down, but they too were having a hard time coordinating themselves.

Jaskier bit back a curse, hand feeling for a dagger that wasn't there anymore. He would never hurt his wolves, but whatever was tormenting his pack would need to die.

"Come on out you horny bastard." Jaskier mumbled, eyes flitting over the undergrowth surrounding them.

The crows had nestled back into the branches above them, twitching and puffing up like excited audience members at court. Jaskier send them an exasperated glare. He had half the mind to throw something at them, but he remembered how intelligent (and vindictive) those animals could be and left them in peace. No need for him to make more enemies than necessary. He could always try to shoo them away later, when his friends were in their right mind again and that half rotten, scarcely clothed, almost deer was dead.

With growing dread Jaskier realized that there would be not much space to fight where they were. They still stood on the thin, barely visible path the Fae had set them on, trees and bushes and ferns all around them.

Geralt, Eskel and Lambert where biting at each other, shaking and growling and obviously trying their hardest to stay away from Jaskier. If only he could use the time they had gifted him with to pin down the threat. But he only ever saw a shadow, always where he couldn't reach, never quite real enough to be sure that it was really there.

Jaskier threw a bomb at it anyway.

He didn't have much of them left and this one wasn't especially helpful. It was loud, yes and it made a cloud of gas appear that smelt horrible and sharp and made his eyes burn. It didn't seem to do any harm though.

Although Jaskier was questionably delighted to notice that it didn't have to. The ruckus had been enough to coax the creature – the Leshen – out of its hiding place.

With an unholy screech it lashed out, claws shooting out of the shadows to rip through his chest. Jaskier evaded the strike only barely, thanking every god in existance for his fast reflexes. As soon as the attack ended Jaskier turned and ran a few paces down the path before facing the threat again, putting some much needed distance between them.

The Leshen hadn't followed him. It was standing in broad daylight, long arms with even longer fingers scraping at the ground. It had decorated its skull with what seemed to be a bush of wild berries, the leaves trailing down its back like hair. Its empty sockets stared him down, considering.

Jaskiers pack growled somewhere to his left, three voices entertwined in perfect harmony. Jaskiers heart sunk. He didn't dare glance at his friends, knowing without a doubt that they had succumbed to whatever spell this creature had cast on them.

The three wolf turned Witchers stepped in front of the Leshen, facing Jaskier, not an once of recognition in their eyes.

Bile rose in Jaskiers throat. His hand slipped from the pouch, abandoning the bomb in there. He would not harm his pack.

"Hey..." His voice came out shaky and meek as he lifted his arms slowly, palms up. The crows above them cooed, seemingly amused at his attempt at making peace. "Can't we settle this like... uh... civilized... beings? We don't want to be here in your forest. And you want us gone. So if you could just show us the way we would be out of your... leaves. What do you say?"

The Leshen bend over and burrowed its claws into the ground in a move Jaskier recognised. His pack snarled at him, hostile, hackles raised and ready to pounce at him, and this time not in a friendly way.

Jaskier took a step back, a small whimper escaping from his parched throat. He clutched at the brooch Spring had given him, cursing the Fae. Wasn't this supposed to protect him? Or had it all been a cruel trick? Had they really been played? Was this how the Fae wanted him and his Witcher friends to end up? Divided and pitched against each other in the face of a foe they had no chance of beating?

Trembling lips opened to guide Springs song out into the world once again. His rendition was barely audible, voice incredibly thin as Jaskier fought against tears of panic. Ripe dandelions sprung to life around him and a gust of wind freed them off their fluff, the seeds twirling upwards just as thick roots sprung up from the ground where the Leshen had buried its claws.

They shot out between the wolves and crashed against the wall of dandelion seeds. Jaskier watched in awe as the little white things latched onto the roots and took hold of them, sucking them dry of water as more and more yellow blossoms opened their petals.

It had worked. Springs brooch really _did_ help! It seemed like music would be his weapon once again. Jaskier dared to grin, a crooked, doubtful thing that really was more a baring of teeth than anything even resembling joy.

Jaskier used the Leshens confused pause to pull his miraculously still intact lute from his back and clip the brooch to the collar of his chemise. Hoping the closeness to the vibrations of his voice and instrument would somehow fuel its magic.

The first, bold chords rang through the air just as his pack sprang into action, moving towards him in one trained, deadly line.

" _Listen to the voice you hear!_ " Jaskier botched the lyrics a little. He had no time to sing the whole verse. And he had found out early in his little solo adventure that a bit of creative wiggle room was allowed as long as the melody and lyrics stayed recognizable.

His canine friends stopped mid charge, entranced and confused, ears pinned forward to listen. Their eyes were blown black by this point, staring unseeing into space. But they heard him. They heard him!

Jaskier dared to take a step forward, flowers blooming around his feet, forget me nots, cornflowers, dandelions and buttercups. As his voice grew louder and more confident the trees bend down towards him, trying to get closer to his music.

The Leshen tilted its head and the crows flew off of their branches, crowding towards their master. Some stayed in the air, circling the small space before diving down to attack.

Jaskier flinched at the oncoming black feathered darts, but like the true performer he was didn't dare stop his music. Again the fluff of the dandelions came to his aid, blocking the crows path and getting into their beaks, stuffing their airways.

The birds fell to the ground, withering as they suffocated. Jaskier pulled a face at their agony, wishing he could somehow control the power of the brooch better. He really didn't want these animals to suffer. It was likely they were just as mind controlled as his wolves.

But he couldn't do much. He only had one trick left up his sleeve and he needed to keep using it until something happened. Preferably something in his favour, that is.

The Leshen let out a roar that rattled Jaskiers bones, more roots shooting out the ground and more crows attacking from all sides. Only his wolves stayed where they were, blind to the battle going on around them as they fought their own in their minds.

If he could just hold out a little longer, Jaskier thought desperately dodging a bird that had wormed past his defenses. Just a bit. His lungs were screaming at him, the adrenalin and panic making everything seem even more bright and chaotic, while simultanously dampening the world around him. His sole focus was on the Leshen.

It didn't dare come closer, properly warned off by the dried out roots laying lifeless on the ground, wary of the aggressive seeds twirling around Jaskier. Still it stood its ground, sending wave after wave of crows at him, trying to tire him out so he would lower his guard.

But Jaskier held firm. He had performed under much worse conditions, feverish and with lungs filled with flegm, while he was black out drunk and barely in his right mind to stand. In the heat of the day in the middle of a sunny, overcrowded market place where the air was so thick that breathing felt like swallowing a brick whole. Performers were a sturdy bunch and Jaskier would not let a little bit of fear and chaos get the best of him. Not when he had his music to concentrate on.

One after another Eskel, Lambert and Geralt sneezed, the pollen from Jaskiers flowers, which had slowly grown to encircle the wolves driving into their noses. They hacked and coughed for a bit, shook themselves, blinked and fixed their eyes on Jaskier. Yellow, slitted eyes full of intelligence.

Jaskier tilted his head forward, the small movement just enough for his wolves to see and act upon. As one they turned and charged, easily evading the swipes from the creature. The crows dispersed in the confusion, the thrall the Leshen had had over them broken and Jaskier could stop his play, ready to start it up again should the Leshen try and take his pack a second time.

A woop of triumph escaped him as his friends tore the Leshen to the ground. Lambert had jumped high to snap at one of its antlers, using the momentum and his newfound grip to force the Leshens head back. Eskel went for the exposed throat and Geralt barreled into the forest spirits stomach, terminating its balance.

His joy didn't last long. The tall, lanky body of the Leshen flickered and morphed into a black, shadowy mass that was gone in the blink of an eye. His wolves sprang back on their paws and sniffed the air, ready to strike again.

Jaskier, too, was tense, head whipping from side to side to get the creature in his sight again. A bark from Eskel warned him of the incoming attack and Jaskier threw himself forward to avoid the claw slashing at his back.

"Stay put!" he managed to yell before his wolves could come to his aid.

Still stumbling away from the murderous beast Jaskier pulled one of the last three remaining bombs out of his pouch, clumsily lit a match and threw it over his shoulder. He ripped his lute from his back and dove down his pack immediately descending upon him to guard him from the ensuing shockwave.

Pained shrieks filled the forest, dancing over the crackling of the fire that got louder and louder as the Leshen fell silent. Geralt whimpered above him and Jaskier carefully detangled himself from his companions.

A look behind him told him that he had fucked up big time. Sure the Leshen was dead – and he would gloat about that particular accomplishment for years to come whenever Geralt refused to let him tag along on a hunt – but now the forest was on fire.

The dry wood and deadened leaves made for great kindling and Jaskier prayed to all the gods he had learned about in Oxenfurt that his little magic pouch still contained at least one more handy bomb.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he touched a small cylindrical vial. He clacked it open and threw it into the fire, which was still in it's early growing phases, contained enough to be fully enveloped by the ice.

With bated breath he watched the construction of destruction, flinching at every cracking sound it made. Geralt, Eskel and Lambert pressed up against him and growled, as though they could intimidate the fire into nonexistance. And maybe they could. Because when the structure fell apart only puddles of ice and water remained.

Jaskier slumped back and took a few seconds to make sure that his lute was still whole. There were a few new scratches that he would need to take care of once all of this was over and done with, but other than that she was fine.

"Phew! I think I blew away a small fortune today. Geralt, remind me to write a big thank you letter to Triss. And write her a few songs – no – a whole song circle!"

Geralt licked his face, probably to show his agreement. And it was then that the whole weight of the situation came crashing down on him. An anguished, little scream crawled up his throat as he threw himself at Geralt.

He buried his face in the coarse fur and held on tight as the floodgates opened and sobs started to wreck his body. Once begun Jaskier couldn't stop, didn't even have enough breath left to explain to his worried pack members why he was suddenly breaking down.

He had come so close to having to either let himself get killed or having to fight his friends. Flashes of the battle at the lake invaded his mind and the thought of the blood of his companions on his hands instead made his core tremble in horror.

Geralt, Eskel and Lambert didn't really know what was going on with their human, only that he was in pain and that they needed to comfort him. Geralt let himself be held and tried to nuzzle and lick as much of Jaskier as he could reach.

Lambert draped himself across Jaskiers back and emitted a deep, soothing rumble, which send pleasant vibrations through Jaskiers heaving body.

Eskel wormed his way into the small space between Geralt and Jaskier, curling up as best as he could on Jaskiers lap and made himself heavy, hoping it would ground their bardling.

They stayed in that tight knot for a long time until Jaskiers tears eventually subsided and the sobs slowly turned into small hiccups. Jaskiers death grip on Geralt loosened and he leaned back enough to rub his nose against his favourite Witchers forehead.

The movement was enough to cause Lambert to abandon his place and round Jaskier, sniffing at the salty tracks on his red cheeks.

A small, shaky laugh shattered the rest of the solemn mood. Grinning Jaskier leant back a little more to ruffle Lamberts fur and stroke over Eskels back.

"Sorry. Got a little over emotional there. I-" Jaskier let out a shuddery breath. "I'll tell you about it later. Let's find Roach and Scorpion first and get the fuck out of here."

His pack barked and danced around him as he stood and dusted himself off. Together they rounded the puddles and continued on their path, feeling lighter and more relaxed than before.

They were so close to the finish line. Jaskier could already taste the end of their adventure. Now if only his pack would finally be whole again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, sorry this took so long. I had some other writing urges that needed to be taken care of in between writing for this and Ghost of the Keep. 
> 
> I'm also pretty sure that's not how the bombs in the Witcher work, but I'm calling creative license.
> 
> As always I'm seralyra on tumblr.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at geography and can't calculate distances for shit so apologies in advance if I got anything horribly wrong.

With the main threats seemingly eliminated travelling inched towards the territory of fun once again. Jaskier was still on the lookout for trouble and his pack never strayed far from him. But most tension had fled from his body. As if Melitele herself had blessed their journey the weather too, made a turn for the better. A cool breeze had swept in not long after their departure, happy, white clouds dampening the harsh light of the sun. The mild shadows and playful tugging of the wind on his hair made the warm temperatures bearable and even send a pleasant shiver or two down his spine.

There was no need for him to make music. Jaskier for once happy to just walk and revel in the noises his companions made. Their stream of vocalisations accompanied by the rhythmic rustle of the leaves and the odd melodies of nature a perfect song in its own right.

The small path eventually disappeared into a bright green tapestry of moss and Geralt ventured off to the left, Lambert and Eskel headbutting Jaskiers tighs until he followed. His three wolves faithfully navigated him through the undergrowth, careful to never let him out of their sight. That is, until the treeline broke to reveal a meadow and their two wayward horses.

Jaskier huffed out a quiet laugh as his three companions bounded off towards Roach and Scorpion, their thick hides vanishing in the sea of tall, yellowed grass. Yelps, howls and happy whines escaped his packmates as they hopped and danced around their two equine friends, neither of which looked very impressed by their overenthusiastic greeting.

Roach offered Geralt only one half hearted nudge, that was more to shove him away from her patch of grass than a true welcome back. Jaskier was received much warmer in contrast. Her ears pricked forward as he approached her and soon she trotted up to him, snuffling into his chemise and shoving at his chest.

Jaskier had to hold onto her bridle to keep from falling over and dared to scratch at her forehead. "Sorry girl, I don't have any treats for you. Who dolled you up so well, hm?"

And truly Roach and Scorpion looked beautiful, dozens of flowers, berries and autumn leaves woven into their manes to create delicate ornaments. Jaskier carefully took stock of the materials used and couldn't find one harmful plant. A relief.

Roach stomped as Jaskier circled her, clearly unhappy that he didn't have anything for her. Jaskier hushed her with a smile and promised her apple slices and sugar cubes once they were near a town again. His sweet talk made her huff and snort, but she stood still so he could secure his lute to her saddle and check their bags.

While Jaskier took stock of their belongings Scorpion finally managed to break off from the playful wolves surrounding him and trotted over to Jaskier. A curious snout sniffed the small of his back with enough force to shove him into Roachs flank.

"No Scorpion. I don't have any sugar cubes for you either."

Scorpion nickered softly at him and turned to instead feast on the dry grass. Jaskier stroked over the stallions side once before getting back to business. All their stuff seemed to be in order. In fact there were two new additions.

In his bag he found a dagger, fine as a needle and light as a feather. It gleamed silver in the weak sunlight, the engravings on the hilt and thin blade artful enough to divert from the deadliness of the weapon. Tied to the hilt was a weathered parchment, which smelled faintly of sweet flowers.

Curious Geralt and Eskel had come over to him, while Lambert frolicked in the field and had the time of his life chasing Scorpion around. Although the stallion acted more like a grumpy old man indulging their youngest grandchild.

Shaking his head at Lamberts antics and ignoring the whines for attention from Geralt, Jaskier tucked the dagger away in its sheath and placed it back into the bag, unrolling the small scroll to read the message it contained.

The writing was as elegant as Jaskier had expected coming from a Fae, and the little poem was written entirely in Elder. Jaskier blushed a little as he read it. Spring had obviously penned the first half, heaping praise on the bard and detailing how Jaskier could reach the Fae Realm on midsummer. The next part was written in bronze ink and the verses contained a clipped apology for the trouble they had caused while still sounding smug as fuck.

The last part was obviously Winters. She told him to use the dagger wisely and to never mess with the Fae again or there would be dire consequences. Jaskier frowned at the two wolves sitting at his feet and waved the letter at them.

"You really managed to piss the Fae off good. We were so lucky that Spring took a shine to me." Glancing back at the first half of the poem Jaskier couldn't help but blush again. "I'm actually feeling a little bit courted right no-"

Without any warning Geralt pounced at him and pushed him over, howling in his face and tearing the letter from Jaskiers hand.

"Geralt! What the fuck?! Come back here! No! Bad wolf! Don't!"

Jaskier scrambled back to his feet and chased after Geralt, who had started to claw at the ground to dig a hole. Lambert, always up for causing trouble, soon joined his brother.

"Geralt, Lambert stop it this instant!" Jaskier bellowed, trying to get the parchment out of Geralts mouth without tearing it. "You'll just enrage the Fae again. And besides it's good poetry!"

Geralt snarled at him, ears pressed back against his skull and pulled his head away so Jaskier couldn't get a good hold of the parchment. Lambert was the only one digging now, dirt and bits of grass flying everywhere.

Eskel entered the scene with all the grace of an older sibling, who knew they had the moral highground. While Geralt was distracted by Jaskier he stole the letter from him and danced away from the sharp teeth that threatened to tear into his fur. A greatful smile was beginning to bloom on Jaskiers face, but it quickly disappeared when Eskel put a paw on the parchment and tore it in two by tugging at it with his snout.

Shocked Jaskier could only watch as his dear, sweet Eskel ate up the valuable letter and gave Geralt a lick before throwing a judging glare at Jaskier. He really was getting fluent in Witcher wolf because that look definitely spelled _Stop being an idiot_. Which was just rude. _He_ wasn't the one being ridiculous!

"I thought you were better than this." Jaskier sniffed, offended and Eskels ears swivelled back for a brief second until Geralt came to nuzzle him.

Lambert let out an annoyed whine, covered head to toe with dirt, and not happy that all his work had been for naught. Jaskier nodded at him and ruffled his fur, causing a cloud of dust to swirl upwards into the air.

"You made a great hole, puppy. How about you take charge of preparing the fireplace from now on?"

The youngest of the three thumped his tail and growled playfully, which Jaskier took to mean that he accepted his new responsibility.

"Alright then. Let's see if we can't find out where we are."

~~~

They had to rest under the stars one more time before finding anything resembling civilization again. Which came in the form of a dusty road and a signpost. It seemed that they had found themselves in the woods nestled between the Buina and the Gwenllech and had walked the wrong way, which got them close to Yspaden. Jaskier debated dipping into the town to restock on supplies before daring the track up the Blue Mountains or if they should turn around and see if there were any villages on their way towards Kaer Morhen. The Witchers had to stock up somewhere right? And neither Yspaden nor Ard Carraigh seemed to be close enough to make sense.

In the end his packmates decided for him, leading him away from the road to Yspaden and up the trail towards who knew what. They were so close to their goal now, Jaskier mused. It should have made him excited, after all he missed Geralt, the human shaped version, quite a lot. But... loosing his pack would hurt.

Jaskier noticed that he wasn't the only one who dreaded the eventual return to normal. His wolves' cheer dimmed considerably over the next few days. They lagged behind, rubbed against him more and more, brought him sticks to play with them and demanded to be carried so often that Jaskiers arms were hurting from the strain. Of course this also meant more breaks, more quiet moments where Jaskier watched them play with each other. Geralt had been glued to his side the whole time, always in touching distance, whining and complaining when Jaskier told him to stay put when he wanted to relief himself.

They did find a village at the foot of the mountain range, where Jaskier could play for his room and sleep in a real, if shoddy bed for the last time until they would eventually arrive in Kaer Morhen. His pack hadn't been happy with his choice, given that they couldn't follow him into the village let alone the inn. But the quiet night alone did wonders to him. And maybe the hot bath had helped a tremendous amount, too.

The villagers looked after Jaskier when he left mumbling to each other. What was he doing? Was he crazy? The mountain would kill him. But no one stopped him. No one even so much as uttered one word of warning in his direction. And he was glad for it.

His pack waited for him just as civilization merged into nature. The mood had shifted again by then. They stood in line to greet him, bumping into his knees, tails wagging. But they didn't charge him, their playfulness gone. Jaskier thought they were sulking at first, but as the climb got steeper and the ground harder to traverse he wondered if it wasn't something else.

Jaskier held onto both Roach and Scorpion until the path got too thin, winding around a towering high cliff face with a lovely view into Kaer Morhen Valley and a nauseating drop down into the Gwenllech below. He trusted Roach to walk in front of him. She was calmer than Scorpion, who seemed to be new to the track and thus a bit more skittish.

Lambert and Eskel led the way with Geralt taking up the rear. Neither of them had sought out his touch for more than a day now. But as the track up got harder and harder and they drew ever closer to their final destination Jaskier understood. It wasn't just the harsh journey up, which needed all his senses on alert. It was also the looming threat of actually meeting Eskel and Lambert as proper Witchers.

At night, when they had found shelter in another cave and watched the sky cry, all their past interactions flashed before his eyes again. Awkwardness and dread rose with every careless command and petname he had uttered during their journey. How many times had he treated them like actual pets? Oh gods he had _cuddled_ with them! And sure they had liked it in their wolf form, but once they were back to being full blown Witchers again? Jaskier wasn't sure how they would react. He feared Geralt would never look at him again, the embarassment of both of their actions going to haunt him forever.

Nervousness wasn't a good companion when one was climbing up one of the most dangerous paths in the continent. Especially when nature decided to be a dick. They had left the cliff path behind and had set foot on a rather even, muddy trail barely wide enough to fit two horses side by side, leading straight to the dark fortress looming on the horizon.

The dark clouds of the night before still hung around, drenching the land beneath them. Lightening crashed through the darkness, tearing the sky apart. Thunder followed on its heels, booming and threatening. Small rivlets flowed down the mountain path, seperate arms joining until the ground was so soft and wet that Jaskier sunk into it up to his ankles.

That should have been enough warning. But with Kaer Morhen in sight the whole pack wanted nothing more than to press on through the worst. They always said anticipation is the greatest joy. But anticipation begot impatience and it was that, which broke many a mans neck.

The rain worsened, going from drenching to a full on assault from the heavens in the blink of an eye. The mud, already unstable and hard to navigate, suddenly turned into a current and washed away underneath him. Jaskier screamed as his feet got wrenched out from under him, desperately clinging to the reins of Scorpion and Roach. The two horses neighed in fright, barely able to fight against the oncoming mudslide. Geralt, Eskel and Lambert howled in alarm. They quickly surrounded Jaskier and the horses, yelping and growling, even resorting to snapping at Scorpions flank once or twice to steer them out of the dangerzone.

Jaskier fought to stay upright, everything around him dissolving into blurred, muted blotches of grey, green and brown as the wind blew wall after wall of water in his face. Something crashed into his right ankle, white hot pain searing through his leg. His scream was lost in the wails of nature. Destabilized his knees buckled. He was only kept from being swept away by Roach, whose flank he latched onto like a lifeline.

His heart swelled with pride as they made it out, hooves, paws and feet meeting slightly more steady ground. Every step he took hurt as though he was walking on an open wound, pinpricks of pain shooting up his spine and dutifully informing his brain that something was very wrong with a particular part of his body. They couldn't stay where they were though and after the miracle work Scorpion and Roach had done to drag Jaskier out of the mudslide he couldn't make either of them carry his weight.

His two equine friends were already panting, steam rising from their overheated bodies. Jaskier would need to look them over once they had gotten to safety. But for now they just had to move on.

Geralt, Eskel and Lambert carefully navigated them through the treacherous terrain. The three looked about the same now. All of them caked in mud from head to toe, no hint of their natural fur colour left. Jaskier knew he probably didn't look any better. He was shivering terribly, pain and exhaustion threatening to take his consciousness away. The sudden temperature shift from unbearably hot to nearly ice cold further confused his body and for a brief second he wondered if he would even make it to the keep.

But then there were the walls, towering in front of them. They couldn't reach the front gate, so Geralt had led them towards a side entrance, where they came to an abrupt stop. Jaskier blinked the water and black spots from his vision to see what was preventing them from entering.

In front of them stood what at first looked like a replica of Geralt in his human form. White hair and yellow eyes, body clad in traditional Witcher gear, silver sword out. Jaskier squinted at him and tried to pull his mind back out of the darkness enough to at least attempt to communicate.

"Apologies for the surprise visit!" he tried to yell, but it only came out as a croak.

The Witcher, bless their enhanced senses, still heard him. "What in Meliteles name are you doing here boy? What is this?!"

"Brought back your pups." was the only thing Jaskier could come up with, gesturing weakly towards the wolves, who had drawn a protective circle around him.

The Witcher took in the scene in front of him, gaze getting caught on the medallions on the wolves necks and the swords attached to the horses saddles.

"Shit. Get in here."

Jaskier made a shooing motion towards his wolves. "You heard him. Go on."

Three concerned whines answered him, but his command was obeyed and they sprinted past the Witcher and into the keep. Jaskier tried to hobble after them, while still somehow guiding the horses through the narrow opening. But the Witcher was faster. He stepped forward, looped an arm around Jaskiers back to stabilize him and cast what Jaskier thought could have been Axii on the horses to make them stay.

As they walked through the threshold they were greeted by three Witchers kneeling in the mud on all fours, looking very much disorientated, but thankfully fully clothed.

"Whooo it worked." was the last thing Jaskier could say before finally, mercifully, passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are so close to the end now. Only one more chapter to go! It's so weird that both of my big fics are coming to a close at the same time, but I'm kinda excited to get started on the sequels, too so that's alright.
> 
> Sorry if the quality of this chapter was lacking. I'm in a bit of a rut and my writing doesn't seem to flow as well as I want it to at the moment.


	14. Chapter 14

He came to again while being carried through what looked like the main entrance, wet, exhausted and in pain, wishing he could have stayed unconscious longer than just a few heartbeats.

"G'ralt?"

"Still sorting himself out I'm afraid." the foreign Witcher rumbled, carefully shouldering open the door and briskly walking through the halls. "Hold on. You'll be warm soon."

"Hmn sounds lovely."

Jaskier didn't even try to keep track of where they were going, exhaustion taking permanent residence in his bones now that he had stopped moving. It was dark nearly everywhere. Cold stone encasing him like a tomb, shadows and cobwebs its only decorations. His surroundings only became interesting once they stepped into a cozy room that reminded Jaskier of his professor suite in Oxenfurt.

Carefully he was placed in an armchair that still held the body heat from the Witcher standing before him. Jaskier leaned over the armrest to get closer to the merry fire crackling in the fireplace. Bloody spring, had no business going crazy with the weather like that. He could have marched up the path with a warm breeze pushing him on and the sun warming his back. But no! Nature was such a bitch.

A startled yelp escaped him when he felt a touch on his injured foot, but a hand shot out to steady his leg before he could hurt himself further.

"Apologies. I'll have to check your ankle. May I?"

"Oh. Of course. Yes. Please, uhm-"

"Vesemir." the man said with a huff that sounded eerily like Geralts. "And you must be the bard that decided to follow Geralt around."

"That I am! Jaskier, pleased to make your acquaintance!" Jaskier tried to sound more cheerful and less like a drowned rat that had just been run over by a cart. And he might have even succeeded in his charade had he not tensed up as gentle fingers pried the thin leather of his shoes off his foot. It didn't hurt as much as he had feared.

Vesemir tsked at the soggy bit of animal skin and threw it in front of the fire. "Those are not fit for wandering the Killer, boy."

"I know... It's not like I had the time to prepare for it, given the circumstances."

"I'm looking forward to hear that story. Good to have someone here who knows how to use words for once. Only Eskel isn't shit at it. And Coen, but he doesn't winter here often."

"I'll be honored to share my ta- AH!"

Vesemir had inspected Jaskiers ankle with care, rough fingers gliding over the swollen red and blue skin. And then he had pressed down, the tight hold on Jaskiers leg the only reason he still sat in the chair and hadn't jumped to the farthest corner of the room.

"Meliteles- Fuck!"

"Just a sprain. A small prize to pay for your stupidity."

Jaskier winced as he drew his foot back, now finally allowed to. "We weren't being stupid. Just desperate. The path had looked alright when we started on it, muddy and wet but stable. The weather just suddenly decided that pooring rain wasn't enough anymore."

As though he had offended the weather god himself the sky flashed bright, lightning and thunder nearly overlapping and the resounding crash so loud that Jaskiers ears popped.

Teeth massaging the flesh of his lip Jaskier glanced towards the window. "Are you sure they are alright? They're not still outside are they?"

Vesemir gave him a funny look. "If they know what's good for them they'll get the horses dry and look them over, then go and clean themselves up. Don't move I'm gonna get some salve. Also get out of your rags, you'll catch a cold."

"Ra- Why that-" Jaskier spluttered in outrage, but it seemed like it was a longstanding Witcher tradition to rile up the bard only to leave him stewing.

Well... He thought as he peeled himself out of what was left of his clothes. Maybe he could forgive Vesemir his impaired judgement. Under all the mud and with all those tears and holes his doublet and chemise really didn't look like much anymore.

Still. Rags! As if he would ever be seen wearing anything that wasn't of the highest quality! Grumbling he rid himself of the remains of his outfit, pulling a face as the fabric clung to his damp skin. He frowned down at his pants when he had freed his torso, debating how he was supposed to get them off without moving too much, when a noise from the doorway distracted him.

"You look like you've just been insulted."

Jaskiers heart skipped a beat. He hadn't heard that voice in far too long. Sure it was more rumbly and cracked every few syllables, but it still unmistakenly belonged to Geralt. And there stood the man himself, dripping brown sludge onto the stone floor. He was hunched over, as though his body still wanted to use his arms as backup legs. His armour and hair looked like he had just fought a Kikimora in a particularly dirty swamp.

And he stood far too far away for Jaskiers liking, who didn't dare reach out with his hand to beckon him closer, afraid to drive Geralt to flee if he so much as blinked too fast.

"Vesemir said my clothes look like rags." There this was safer.

Geralt peered at him through the wild strands, roaming over his hairy chest and then wandering to the sad pile of ruined expensive finery. "To be fair..." Geralt started, voice getting lost in a growl before long. He coughed to cover up his mishap and started again. "They do look like that."

Jaskier sniffed, a shiver wracking his frame. "And who's fault is that?"

He got an unimpressed stare from Geralt, before it melted into concern when another tremble made Jaskier rub at his arms. "Are you okay?"

"Cold... And I can't get my pants off without disobeying Vesemir."

"Hm. You shouldn't disobey Vesemir. Let me help."

Geralt waited until he received a nod from Jaskier before taking hesitant, unsteady steps leading him further into the room. He hunched over more and more the closer he got to Jaskier, before catching himself and straightening up again. His shoulders immediately sagged once he got back to his full heighth and he looked visibly uncomfortable at being so high up.

Jaskier fought the urge to run his hands through the white strands that were in optimal petting distance once Geralt crouched down to carefully peel the wet fabric down Jaskiers legs. He dug his fingers into the armrest instead, gritting his teeth against the pain as his ankel was jostled.

In no time at all he sat naked in front of the fire, shivering kicking up several notches. Geralt didn't seem to notice at first, too focussed on the injury Jaskier had sustained.

"It's just sprained." Jaskier was quick to sooth. "Vesemir is already getting the healing salve. Could you please do something against the cold, though? I swear I'll freeze to death before he'll come back otherwise."

There was a grunt and a groan as Geralt got back up and swayed towards a chest nestled neatly between a bookcase and the wall. Soon after a blanket got dropped on Jaskiers shoulders, big, shaking hands wrapping the wool around him more securily.

The air was tense as Geralt kept fussing with the blanket and Jaskier tried to keep as still as possible, least he gave into the urge to drag Geralt into his lap. His Witcher wasn't a wolf anymore, he was pretty sure the rules had changed again, too.

"Uhm... So..." Words failed him. Of course words failed him now. Maybe he should just suffer through this weird close-but-not-close-enoughness in silence. Pfff. What was he talking about. He was a bard. No way. "How are the others?"

"Uh... Coping?" Geralt fumbled some more with the wool, ears twitching in a sad attempt to imitate the cute swivel his wolf ears had been capable of.

Jaskier knew in an instant what he was talking about and wanted to hug all of them even more than before.

"Geralt! You're dripping shit all over the library. Get out and clean up."

Said Witcher pulled back with a whine that sounded more wolf like than human, ears twitching again as though they wanted to pull back. This time Jaskier couldn't resist reaching out and at least squeeze Geralts shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile.

"He's right, you know. You'll catch your death. Go on."

"Fine." Geralt huffed, standing up again in halting movements and casting hesitant glances back at Jaskier all the while.

Vesemir shouldered past him with a shake of his head and took Geralts former place. "Foot, bard."

"Yes sir."

After first aid had been applied, Vesemir helped him hobble to the room he was allowed to inhabit during his stay. By the time they had made it up the stairs and Jaskier was deposited on the bed he felt like shit, throat scratchy and breathing coming out laboured.

Vesemir gave him another once over and promptly smothered him under a mountain of blankets, barking at him to stay put. And for once in his life, Jaskier obeyed.

~~~

It was just his luck to catch a cold, when he should have been energetic and chipper and reassuring his new friends that they were still loved even without all the fur. He was stuck in bed though, feeling weak and miserable, his attention alternating between the pain in his ankle to his headache and sore throat, mind too weak to come up with even the simplest of lyrics.

Most of the time he was alone. Vesemir came in even intervalls with tea, broth and more healing salves and potions especially made for humans. He was a gruff but gentle fellow not unlike Geralt and he was visibly annoyed at his pups behavior.

Pups... Jaskier still couldn't get rid of the wolf terminology in his head. Thankfully his voice was as good as gone so he couldn't slip up while talking, but the way he continued to think about the other Witchers concerned him. He didn't want to accidently say something that would make anyone even more uncomfortable.

"How are you feeling?"

Ah, there was his White Wolf, loyal and awkward as ever. Three days had gone by and Geralt still didn't walk quite right. Sometimes he would change back into whines and growls instead of hums and grunts, too. Not that it mattered much to Jaskier. He was fluent in both at this point.

But it embarassed Geralt every time, making him leave the room in a hurry with some half arsed excuse. He always came back, of course. Jaskier knew Geralt wanted to look after him, feeling responsible for Jaskiers current predicament. It was still annoying. Jaskier was bored out of his mind and in pain and Geralt only stayed for a few minutes tops before growing fidgety and abandoning his post.

And it always took so long for him to come back.

Of course, Jaskier understood the awkwardness. But that didn't make the loneliness any less bearable. As the hours ticked by without any of the others coming in to see him he grew furious that his pack wasn't with him when he needed them. He had stood by them through thick and thin. Why were they avoiding him now?

At one point, feeling especially petty, he wrote down what he remembered of the Faes letter to him. He didn't have an exact memory of it, but especially Springs part had been burned into his mind for the most part. And the rhyme scheme wasn't that important for the moment anyway. It was enough to have the directions to the midsummer festival at hand. Jaskier didn't plan on going, but it was good blackmail material.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at him and came closer. He didn't come to sit on the bed, like Jaskier desperately wanted him to. He knelt down at Jaskiers side instead, one hand on the edge of the mattress and the other planted on the floor.

"You're scheming."

"Where are the others?" Jaskier croaked back instead.

Geralt looked pained, his hand reaching out to paw at Jaskiers sleeve in a hesitant attempt to comfort him. "Around. Coping."

"Why aren't they here?"

The whine should have come from him not Geralt. It still pulled at his heart strings and made his hand twitch to cover Geralts. The touch was allowed, even though Jaskier could feel the fingers underneath his fidget.

"They're... afraid."

"They're stupid, that's what they are!" Jaskier tried to yell, but only ended up in a coughing fit.

A mug of tea was pressed in his hands, holding them still and aiding Jaskier to drink while he shook and hacked up more flegm.

"Thanks..."

"Hmrrr."

They stared at each other for a moment, honey coloured eyes gazing up at him with a fondness that nearly overwhelmed Jaskier.

"You're right, you know." Geralt whispered, squeezing Jaskiers hand before standing back up.

"I always am."

One side of Geralts lips quirked upwards as he looked back over his shoulder, already halfway out the door again. "I'd say that's a myth."

Jaskier poked his tongue out at him, gaining a short huff of a laugh. "You'll talk to them then?"

Geralt tilted his head in a nod. "Working on it."

~~~

Whatever Geralt was doing to get his two brothers to get their head out of their arses it definitely wasn't working. More days passed without any of them showing up. Geralt came and went in short bursts, speaking less than ever and only touching were it was really necessary.

Jaskier got his voice back eventually and he used it to complain until Vesemir told him in no uncertain terms that he would be left alone permanently if he didn't shut up.

But his woes were heard nonetheless. Vesemir appeared in his room more and more often and for longer periods of time. Keeping Jaskier company when no one else seemed to want to. The grandmaster of the keep took the lead in their conversations as Jaskiers voice grew stronger again, mostly so his new charge wouldn't immediately overuse it.

When Jaskier was finally strong enough to get out of bed he was led to the great hall to get food and was delighted to find that either Geralt or Vesemir had bullied Eskel and Lambert into joining them.

It was the first time he saw them in their human forms and it was one hell of a sight. They were both sitting close to each other, hunched over and looking anywhere but at Jaskier. It gave Jaskier the perfect opportunity to stare.

He didn't care that he was being rude at this point. Those absolute morons owed him a good ogling after denying him their company for so long. And damn was there much to drink in. They both looked so different from any Witcher Jaskier had ever seen before and yet were so obviously from the School of the Wolf.

They were familiar and yet strangers. Jaskier knew the shape of the scars on their faces, had memorised the feel of them under his fingertips. He wondered if their hair would have the same texture as their fur had been.

He wondered if they would lean into his touches as they had in wolf form.

Ack, no! Bad bard.

Jaskier shook his head and sat down opposite them, whipping out a smile that showed too many teeth to be called friendly.

"Eskel, Lambert! I'm happy to finally meet you."

The accusation in his tone was evident and it was almost comical how Jaskiers words made the two strong Witchers recoil slightly. A frail human, intimidating the apex predators of humanity! No one would believe him if he told the tale.

"Come on you two. I raised you better than that." Vesemir barked at them, he and Geralt loading the table with food stuff. Mostly meat, Jaskier noticed.

Eskel glanced up and dared to risk a quick look at Jaskier, the unmarred half of his face pulling into a parody of a smile.

"It is good to see you well."

"Yes. Same." Lambert added, finally settling his eyes on Jaskier as well. He didn't immediately avert them like Eskel, but it was clear that he was struggling.

"Why thank you." Jaskier sniffed, ignoring their obvious discomfort. They would flee the situation soon enough no matter what he did. And he had no patience left to be gentle. "I had a wonderful caretaker, who actually showed up and kept me company for longer than a few seconds."

The round of pitiful whines was so familiar that Jaskier nearly fell back on cooing and reassuring his pack with pets and cuddles. Thankfully everyone sat too far away for him to reach. The noise, apparently was already horrifying enough for the Witchers.

"You stay and eat or I swear you'll go hungry for the next week and run the walls for two more." Vesemir growled and put a quick stop to the escape of his pups.

Grumbling they all sat back down and began to wolf down their food. Jaskier gritted his teeth against the tears the blatant refusal of his company brought into his eyes. He should have been prepared for this, he chided himself. He knew they would probably regret their actions as wolves. He should have been more careful, less touchy and openly affectionate-

"Now that we're all together. How about you tell me about what happened, bard?"

Blinking out of the whirlpool his thoughts had turned into Jaskier turned to Vesemir with a shy grin and a nod. He swept a short glance over the table, weighing his options, before deciding to just go for it and launching into their tale.

He didn't leave anything out. Fuck being polite.

"I swear you weren't this stupid last winter." Vesemir said in a voice devoid of all emotion. A sort of monotone drone that made even Jaskier feel afraid.

"I mean, we weren't exactly in our right mind." Eskel tried to defend their actions and even had the nerve to look at Jaskier for aid.

Jaskier ignored him in favour of the steak that he was still delicately dissecting with his very pointy fork and knife, lest he accidently stab someone with one or both of them.

„So you brought a bard of all things to do the heavy lifting for you.“

Jaskier rammed the fork in the juicy, half raw flesh hard enough to hit the plate underneath. „Hey, I did great!“

„He really did.“ Geralt agreed, inching closer to Jaskier but watching Jaskiers hands with a wary look.

„Did you learn nothing?“ Vesemir suddenly bellowed, slamming his fists on the table and making everyone flinch. „I explicitly told you when you set out: Do not fuck with the Fae!“

„Well we didn't fuck them.“ Lambert grumbled, glaring at what Jaskier would have called his surrogate father.

„One seemed really interested in fucking Jaskier though.“ Eskel added oh so helpfully. He had sat up a little straighther at this point, all his attention on Vesemir.

The growl from Geralt was ignored by all. Even Jaskier, who heard it and had to push down the flutter of his heart. 

„It's called courting and they were very sweet about it.“ he retorted instead, voice sugary sweet.

Geralts growls only grew louder and more insistent. Lambert and Eskel were looking between Jaskier and their brother now, poised to flee, but waiting.

Jaskier stayed very still as an arm wound around his waist and pulled him into Geralts side, trying to look calm and collected and probably fooling no one with the way his heart was trying to beat out of his chest. He nearly lost his composure when a cold nose briefly brushed through his hair. And he just couldn‘t help leaning into the touch at least a little. It just had been so long since he last got affection from his pack. Fuck he really needed to get rid of that way of thinking.

They were humans. _Humans_. Well technically they were Witchers. But they definitely weren‘t wolves anymore.

Unfortunately for Jaskier, his movement broke Geralt out of whatever fit he was having. The warmth drew back, Geralt cleared his throat, excused himself and left, leaving a half eaten rabbit behind. His brothers send Jaskier one more, unreadable look and followed the White Wolfs example.

Vesemir shook his head as they went. „I swear they weren‘t this stupid before. Apologies. Come now, finish up your meal before it gets cold, I‘ll show you around the keep afterwards.“

Jaskier didn‘t need to be told twice, devouring his food like his life depended on it. Vesemir helped him up once he was done, leaving the clean up for later. And when Jaskier leaned a bit more into the stabilizing hold he didn‘t really need anymore... Well then that was his business entirely.

By the time his ankle started acting up again he had seen maybe a third of the fortress that had once housed hundreds of lost souls. The tour had been both over and underwhelming at once. Most of the formerly intimidating castle had been ruined by a siege. A loud, final boom of tragedy at the end of a long winding tale of abandonment, hurt and death.

The grounds were too big for just four people to care for as well. Especially because they weren‘t here fulltime and the little magic they knew didn‘t exactly help them with the upkeep. Which meant a lot of half rotten, barricaded rooms, floors and halls. There was rubble everywhere, moss and other plants taking back what ground had once been theirs.

What still stood of the buildings though, Jaskier could only imagine the brilliance of the structures at the peak of Kaer Morhens days. The walls held so much potential in them still. There were warm, inhabited places, rooms tiled with dazzling mosaics and open fireplaces, archways leading out to huge balconies and with a view most kings would be jealous of.

The marvel that was Kaer Morhen held Jaskiers mind captive for a long while and Vesemir didn‘t tire of telling stories from the old days.

At night Jaskier sat down by the low fire in one of the smaller libraries that was still in use. His head was swimming with ideas and he was scratching away almost fanatically in his little notebook.

Vesemir had left him alone to chew over all the information he had given him that day, warning him not to stay awake much longer, for the nights were still cold and he didn‘t want Jaskier to freeze in some abandoned hallway.

Just like with his biological father, Jaskier didn‘t listen. He was too absorbed in his task to notice the passing of time, or anything else than the words and melodies that bloomed like wildflowers on his paper.

Thus he also didn‘t notice the soft footsteps nearing his location. Neither did he see the figure hesitating, for a long time, in the doorway.

He did, however, hear the growl of frustration and had just enough time to throw away his notebook and pen before he was barreled into by a hulking, dark form.

Jaskier blinked down at the head that was currently pressing into his chest as though it wanted to get in there. He tried to shift a little to get the two of them more comfortable, but that only resulted in arms tightening their hold and a whine that sounded far removed from happy.

„Lambert?“

„Fuck off and pet me.“

„I can only do one of those things… Puppy.“ Jaskier chuckled, eagerly running his hands through the hair of the grumbling man in his lap, trailing them down Lamberts neck and shoulders, tightening the embrace a bit before resuming his petting with light strokes and tiny rubs that could almost be considered a massage.

Lambert was putty in his hands in seconds, crawling impossibly closer, head coming up to sniff at Jaskiers neck.

Lambert let out a satisfied rumble. „Fuck you.“

„That‘s Geralts privilege, dear.“ Jaskier teased, feeling safe in the knowledge that Geralt wasn‘t there to listen in on them and high off the physical contact that had been denied to him for far too long after the constant cuddles from his pack in the last weeks.

„Hmph, of course it is. This is alright though? Not weird?“

Jaskier couldn‘t deny him the little kiss to the side of his head. „Not at all. As long as you like it?“

Hands traced up and down Jaskiers back, both of them shifting to lay down on their side so they wouldn‘t need to bend over so much anymore.

As they curled up around each other Lambert began to nuzzle Jaskiers collarbone and throat in earnest, obviously still unable to fully control his wolfish instincts. „I like it.“

Much, much later, in the early morning hours, Jaskier got back to his room feeling happy and light. He was humming a song that was halfway to being done as he stepped through the threshold to his room. He paused as he registered Geralt standing beside his fireplace, door falling closed behind him with a resounding thud.

"Did you mean it?" Geralt asked before Jaskier could even open his mouth, using that low half-growl that he had adapted after shifting back.

"Did I mean what?"

"The privilege."

Jaskier was a weather hardened flirt and had barely any shame left, but the knowledge that his love of five years had overheard him saying that made even him blush.

Geralt sniffed in his direction at that and took a curious step forward. "Did you?"

Well here went nothing. "Yes."

The happy little noise that was delivered to his ears via airstream was the best thing Jaskier had heard in his entire life. It didn't take long before he had one very eager Witcher crowding into his space.

"I want to use my privelege now. Is that alright?"

"Yessss." Jaskier breathed, pulling at the silky strands of white as Geralt ran his nose up and down his neck. "Perfect."

Jaskier was thrown out of his loop of bliss when Geralt suddenly recoiled with a growl. "You cuddled Lambert."

Jaskier had to blink a few times to get rid of the haze. "Well yes. He was braver than any of you. He earned it."

Geralt made a grimace. "You smell like him now."

Chuckling Jaskier pulled him back to him again and bumped their foreheads together. "Then do something about it."

They both leaned in, Jaskier tongue shooting out to wet his lips before they would finally-

"Ewww! Geralt!"

"Sorry! I got excited."

Jaskier just couldn't. He broke out laughing at the horrified look his partner was giving him, while still rubbing at his cheek where Geralt had just licked him.

"Wolf." he giggled. "That's not how you use your tongue, dear heart."

Gaining back his composure Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh really?"

"Hmhm. You can lick other places with that."

The smirk that appeared on his beloveds face made Jaskier squirm in Geralts hold.

"Is that so?" he purred tapping the tip of Jaskiers nose with his own, before diving in and licking it. "You mean here?" Another quick lick, this time over Jaskiers right brow. "Or here?"

"Geralt!" Jaskier screeched, caught between laughing and being thoroughly disgusted at the wet, cold tongue smearing saliva all over his face. "Gross!"

Suffice it to say that Geralt didn't get to use his priveleges that night, but neither cared much for it. The cuddling was more than enough for now.

~~~

The next day, Jaskier managed two steps into the kitchen before being assaulted by Lambert, who scooped him up and off the ground in a bear hug and proceeded to rub his face all over him.

"Lambert! Put him down!" Eskel shouted in alarm, half standing from his seat at the kitchen table.

"Never! It's payback for him carrying us around all the time! And he smells like that prick Geralt now. Have to rectify that."

Jaskier, for his part accepted his fate with all the grace of an overly dramatic bard. He slumped over with an exaggerated groan. "Woe is me! I only meant to ease your pain in a time of anguish and uncertainty! And this is how I'm to be thanked!"

He then proceeded to pat Lambert everywhere he could reach, because who was he to turn down free hugs.

Lambert let out a happy little whine and plopped him back down. "There. Now the only thing that's missing is Eskels smell."

Both looked curiously at their last member of the pack. Eskel had stood up in full at this point, hovering nervously close to the two of them. Hesitantly he came to them and wound his arms around Jaskiers waist as Lambert stepped back.

Jaskier felt a slight nudge at the crown of his head. "Is this really okay? You and Geralt... this won't make him angry?"

Jaskier leaned into his touch and threw his arms around Eskels neck, enjoying his first feel of Eskel in his Witcher form. "All is well. Don't worry."

"Are you sure?" Eskel pulled back a little so he could look into Jaskiers eyes. "I know this isn't exactly normal human behavior. And we never were this affectionate before. Touch has never been high on our list of priorities."

"Oh darling." Jaskier murmured, framing Eskels face with both of his hands. "If I wanted normal I wouldn't follow around a Witcher. I enjoy this and will always be willing to provide you with affection as long as you want and with as much as you feel comfortable with."

He heard twin sighs of relief and soon a second pair of arms joined the first as both Eskel and Lambert decided to bask in Jaskiers warmth for a bit longer.

"Hey that is my bard." Was the first thing Geralt said when he stepped into the kitchen behind Vesemir.

"He's ours, jackass." Lambert growled. "He's pack, he's supposed to smell like all of us."

Geralt growled at him, but that only made both Eskel and Lambert hold onto Jaskier tighter.

"He is my partner now. Most of all he's supposed to smell like me."

"I swear if you start pissing on the bard I will throw you out the window." Vesemir muttered, moving past them to get to the pantry.

Jaskier shuddered at the mental picture and began to squirm out of Lamberts and Eskels hold. "If they do I'll throw them out myself."

Hands and arms fell from him without much prompting and Jaskier skipped over to his lover to give him a chaste good morning kiss.

"Come now you three. Breakfast. I'm hungry."

Later that day, after Vesemir had ran his pups through some basic training drills to get them used to their human bodies again they met up in the library. Geralt, as always, was quick to seek out Jaskiers touch. Eskel and Lambert, despite all their bravour in the morning, settled further away at first, before getting a look from both Geralt and Jaskier.

Arranging in a pile that was comfortable for all of them took a bit of time, several minutes of cursing and shoving at each other and one mini brawling match between Lambert and Geralt. And even once they had all settled down the awkward silence was occasionally interrupted by sharp snipes and bantering.

The awkwardness faded the longer they stayed pressed close to each other though, tension draining from shoulders and heads knocking together gently, his Witchers carefully testing the waters on how much affection was acceptable to show to their brothers without being teased or reprimanded for it.

The quiet turned comfortable and Jaskier melted into the ever shifting pile of limbs. He loved this, but he did kinda miss the fur between his fingers and the happy panting of wolves.

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"What would you say if I bought us a dog?"

Three bodies recoiled from him in perfect synch and three pairs of matching yellow eyes stared at him with something akin to terror in them. "No!"

Jaskier pouted, tugging on their clothes to get them to come back and continue to cuddle him.

"Fine- Ewww Geralt stop fucking licking me! I get it you're dog enough, jee- Lambert, Eskel no!"

Alright, no dogs for him, Jaskier mused as he laughed, trying to squirm out of the cage of arms to escape the insistant washing his three packmates bestowed upon him.

He could live with what he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand it's done! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! It was such a wild ride and I loved every second of it. Sorry that the last part took so long, I was gone for a week and it took a while to catch up on everything.
> 
> There is a sequel planned and I will probably start writing it immediately after I finish "Ghost of the Keep". In the meantime I'm thinking about writing some small oneshots about what happens in the Keep while the three recuperate and get used to their human bodies again. Is there something you'd like to read?
> 
> You can send prompts @seralyra on tumblr or just write a comment here, whichever you feel most comfortable with~
> 
> Depending on how much input I'll get I'll either open up a part filled with drabbles or hang the prompts I feel fit the story pattern at the beginning of the sequel.


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